


the whole world was watching (but no one really saw)

by ballerinaroy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Mystery, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: Five years have passed since the end of the war and against all odds, the trio have found their own bliss. Everything changes, however, when Hermione arrives home one Friday evening to find Ron with his bags packed, telling her that their three-year marriage is over. With rumors circulating about the true nature of their relationship, Harry and Hermione find themselves alone in their quest to understand the strange turn of events and with more questions than answers about where exactly Ron has gone.





	1. Midnight Visitor

“We’ve made the front page,” Ron announced as he entered their cubical, tossing the paper onto Harry’s desk.

The headline caused Harry’s stomach to plummet at once as his own angry face blinked up at him. The picture version of himself was pushing past the photographer, mouthing something that didn’t look pretty. “Robards won’t be pleased about this.”

“I don’t know, _Boy Who Lived Lets Death Eater Escape_ has a ring to it,” Ron teased, picking up the paper again and quoting from it in a mocking voice.

“Residents and visitors of Diagon Alley were shocked with their morning shopping was interrupted when Harry Potter, famous Auror, destroyed half the street in pursuit of notorious Death Eater, Gregory Goyle. Potter and his partner Ronald Weasley were unable to capture Goyle and witnesses say that Potter fled the scene…”

“Stop it,” Harry groaned, closing his eyes to block out the sound. “Half the street wasn’t destroyed, it was only Fortescue’s old building and it’s been empty for ages.”

“I miss old Fortescue’s,” Ron answered, a serene look on his face as he rubbed at his shoulder. “Maybe something will go in there now, there’s nothing quite like muggle ice cream.”

“Maybe George could look into it,” Harry said. “The kids should be getting their lists any day now.”

“Mmh,” Ron said thoughtfully, pulled from what Harry only suspected was a fantasy about the ice cream parlor. He shook his head and changed the topic. “That reminds me, Hermione’s birthday is coming up, she hasn’t mentioned anything she’d like to you has she? George said I should replace her engagement ring, but it doesn’t feel like a proper birthday present.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to do? Replace rings?” Harry asked stupidly. “What’s wrong with the one she has now?”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” Ron said with a shake of his head. “But it is a bit small. It’s not like we were making any money at the time. Anyway, if you’ve got any ideas—“

“Weasley, Potter,” Gawain Robards barked at them from up the aisle. “My office.”

At once they scrambled to their feet, their grins gone as they hurried after the retreating form of their boss as he disappeared into his office. They’d been with the office for five years now and but Robards’ opinion of Harry still seemed to change by the day. Harry knew that their latest botched assignment would do nothing to put him in his boss's good graces. It hadn’t been their fault, and Goyle was hardly a Death Eater, but Robards had made it clear that even given their level of fame that they should do their best to keep from the press.

Sure enough, as soon as the door was shut behind them, causing an eerie silence compared to the hallway, Robards rounded on them in his authoritative voice. “If I have cautioned you once, I have cautioned you a hundred time about being aware of your surroundings. That includes the press, Aurors.”

“It was one photographer sir,” Harry protested at once.

“And why does it look like you’re attacking him?” Robards asked his voice equally calm and even.

“Ron was injured sir,” Harry said in explanation, looking over to Ron who had chosen the wrong moment to tug again at his shoulder that had indeed been injured when the facade of the empty shop had been blasted apart. “And the man wouldn’t get out of my way.”

At once Robards’ narrowed eyes shifted to Ron who hastily dropped his hand and attempted to look casual. “Have you been cleared by the healers?”

“Not yet sir,” said Ron, flushing. “I wanted to make sure everything was sorted before I bothered the healers.”

If anything Robards’ frown became more pronounced and Ron hurriedly got to his feet. “Which I can see now that everything is sorted so I’d best be going.”

He hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if Robards would dismiss him or demand he stay for the lecture they’d entered the office for, but Robards merely dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “This doesn’t excuse you from handing in your report before going home for the day.”

As Ron turned he gave a mocking look of relief to Harry who rolled his eyes at him as covertly as possible before Ron slid out the door.

“Auror Potter,” Robards cut across, directing Harry’s full attention back to his boss. “Like it or not you are one of the most famous wizards of your age. Being paired with Auror Weasley does nothing to help either of your notoriety when you are in public. You need to be more cognizant of this fact.”

Harry nodded, quite confident that if Robards had been more upset with them he would have given Ron an earful before sending him to be checked over. It was well known that Harry and his boss had a mutual disdain for the optics of their positions. This was hardly the first time Robards had lectured Harry on making the front page.

“If I need to reassign you-“ Robards said warningly. They both knew it an empty threat.

“Of course not sir,” Harry said quickly. “We’ll be more careful.”

“See that you do,” Robards grumbled, settling back in his chair. Harry wondered for a moment whether this was his own dismissal when Robards began to speak again. His tone had changed, no longer frustrated and stern, but now rather worn and wise. “Being who you are Potter means that you will be held to a higher standard than you deserve. I know the work you do is good, but,” he leaned forward again, staring Harry directly in the eyes. “Everything the public sees will be under scrutiny, plan your actions accordingly.”

Again Harry nodded. It was rare that Robards gave Harry praise, not as uncommon as when he’d first started, but still not commonplace. Robards gave him a final piercing look and then the moment was gone, returning to the less than fatherly leader of the most elite office in the ministry.

“I want your statement before you go,” Robards told Harry, already pulling a piece of parchment from his desk and summoning a quill. “And please ensure Auror Weasley gets his fit for duty slip filed.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said as he got to his feet, immensely glad all Robards had let him off with only a lecture. With any luck, he’d still be making it home before Ginny. Perhaps he’d surprise her with dinner.

 

It was almost midnight when Harry awoke with a start, his heart racing in his chest, wand gripped in his hand. It took him several moments to register the cause of his abrupt awakening. Standing in his doorway, silhouetted by the lamp from the street, stood Hermione. Hurriedly he scrambled out of bed, heart still racing in his chest.

“Whatz going on?” Ginny asked groggily from beside him, shielding her eyes from his wand light.

“It’s Hermione,” Harry answered, already halfway across the room.

Ginny groaned, rolling over and throwing her pillow over her head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked of her, shutting the door behind him and ushering Hermione into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

As his eyes adjusted he could see that she was trembling, her eyes red and puffy. She struggled to speak and when she did the words seemed to cause her physical pain. “Ron hasn’t come home.”

“What?” Harry asked, her tone cutting through him painfully. “What do you mean he hasn’t come home?”

He’d been arriving back at the office when Harry was departing, it was impossible that he wouldn’t be home by now unless something terrible had happened.

“I mean he did,” Hermione said hesitantly, “he was there when I came home but h-he—”

His relief that Ron wasn’t at the hospital was short-lived as Hermione looked as if she’d been stunned, her eyes seeing something that Harry couldn’t as she recalled what had happened. “He had a bag packed, t-told me he d-didn’t want t-t-to be with me anymore, a-and he left.”

“What?” Harry asked stupidly.

Hermione was looking up at him desperately, waiting for him to tell her what to do. The rush of being awoken in the middle of the night had worn off and he found it difficult to comprehend what was happening.

“Listen, I’m sure whatever he’s upset about will wear off,” Harry told her in his most assuring voice. “Why don’t we go home and wait for him? I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Distractedly she nodded, taking his hand and allowed him to guide her back through the floo and to her flat. Tea was made, the routine steps allowing Harry to fully process what had happened, and they settled in their usual spots on the couch, facing the fire. The only thing that was missing was Ron, his arm around Hermione as he lounged out.

“He’ll come back,” Harry told her. “What were you fighting about anyway?”

Hermione gave him a strange look and shook her head. “That’s just it, we weren’t fighting at all.”

Something clicked inside of Harry and he forgave her at once for pulling him out of bed in the middle of the night. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Hermione said with conviction. She began to twist her fingers nervously, looking back to the fire expectantly. “There was nothing. This morning we were talking about viewing houses this weekend and when I came home to make dinner he was just standing there, his bag packed, telling me he didn’t want to be with me anymore. He told me not to come looking for him.”

Her voice was an octave higher than normal and manic.

“Hermione,” Harry tried but found himself at a loss for words.

“Did he say something to you?” Hermione demanded, rounding on him. “At work, what did he say?”

“N-nothing,” Harry sputtered in shock. Hermione’s eyes were demanding as he told her what had happened that day.

“But, what if he was hit by something?” Hermione asked the moment he told her of Ron leaving for the hospital. “Harry, what if he was confounded or—“

“He was getting back when I was leaving,” Harry told her, “Showed me the slip and everything. Completely cleared.”

“But,” Hermione said lamely, “But then why hasn’t he come home?”

She stared at him expectantly but after a long moment fell back against the couch, tugging at the blanket Harry had thrown around her shoulders upon their arrival.

“He’s never left Harry, no matter how cross we are with one another. He doesn’t leave when we fight, not once.” She paused for a moment. “Not since the tent.”

Harry was at a loss for words and his was skin beginning to crawl. Hermione was right, not once since they’d gotten together had Harry awoken to Ron wanting a talk or else storming over to his place angry from a row. In fact, since he’d moved out he’d hardly known them to be fighting at all.

“Sometimes he’d sleep on the couch,” Hermione continued, looking at the furniture they were sitting on as if it would make Ron materialize between them. “But even then I’d always wake up with him in our bed.”

He could tell she was on the verge of tears now and couldn’t bear to see her so upset.

“He’ll come back,” Harry assured her with more confidence than he was feeling. “Ron wouldn’t leave you.”

“Then Harry,” Hermione asked and it was obvious he was not going to be able to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. “Where is he?”

 

Harry wasn’t aware of falling asleep but he awoke from a doze to early morning light streaming in the windows and Hermione in the same curled up position, eyes trained on the fire. She didn’t stir when he stretched, only her eyes twitching to him.

“He didn’t come back,” Hermione told him in a dry voice, pointing out the obvious.

Whereas last night Harry had been able to convince himself this was a simple misunderstanding, waking up to a still absent Ron was far more unsettling. The night's conversation washed over him as he rolled his neck.

“He probably just spent the night somewhere,” Harry told her, feeling he needed to assure her of things he wasn’t confident of himself. “In a couple of hours, I’ll go and start looking for him. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”

Hermione shook her head at him, standing up stiffly and picking up her almost full cup Harry had brought her the night before. “I’ll make tea.”

It felt like a horrible nightmare relived again, Ron storming from the tent and waking up in the morning to find himself surprised again that Ron was gone. Hermione was right, he wouldn’t have just left, not like this. Something about this felt terribly wrong. In the other room, Harry could just hear Hermione mumble something and knew she too was thinking of the deluminator as he watched her close her eyes and say with a little more confidence “Ron.” She held the position for a long moment, tensed up as if she could will him into her presence. Harry averted his eyes back to the dying embers as she relaxed and let out a long sob.


	2. The Search Begins

Harry watched as Hermione nervously twisted her hands in her lap. He hadn’t seen her this worked up since the week before she sat the N.E.W.T.s. The same anxious energy surrounded her now, same shadows around her swollen eyes. They’d spent the weekend searching with no avail. Everywhere they could think of, everyone they spoke to always gave the same answer with suspicious looks. It seemed as if Ron had simply vanished.

“It’s going to be alright,” Harry assured her, reaching over to still her hands. “Auror Robards will be able to help us.”

No matter his personal standing, Harry had the utmost faith that his boss would be able to guide them on what to do next. Aurors didn’t just walk off without a lengthy debriefing, Ron would not be an exception. Hermione glanced over at him and nodded hurriedly just as Robards entered from behind them.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Hermione said at once, her voice more subdued than usual.

Robards flashed Hermione a look of pity but before Harry could say anything, the look had been replaced by his usual stern look of business. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Sir,” Harry started, dropping Hermione’s hand when he saw Robards' eyes dart to them. “We think that something has happened to Ron, Auror Weasley. He’s been acting out of character.”

Robards had always been a stickler for proper titles. His opinion was that their titles were earned and therefore should be used.

“How so?” Robards asked in his usual business voice.

“Friday evening he came home and out of the blue asked Hermione for a divorce,” he heard Hermione’s sharp intake of air at the mention but carried on. “And neither of us have heard from him since. He wouldn’t have walked out on Hermione like that. Before you called us into your office Friday we were talking about what he was going to get Hermione for her birthday.”

Robards seemed unimpressed by this and Harry felt a sudden wave of panic. He was studying Hermione now with suspicion without responding to what Harry had said.

“I know you said he sent a note,” Harry said, beginning to sound desperate. “But I think this is all very suspicious and deserves a proper inquiry.” 

Those were Hermione’s words coming out of his mouth. She was always going on about how much simpler their lives would have been if someone had taken them seriously and had proper investigations.

“I appreciate you coming to me with this concern,” said Robards slowly, “But I’m afraid Mr. Weasley has resigned from his position, effective last Friday.”

Harry felt his breath leave his chest. What was going on? “Sir, please, there’s something going on here. You need to look into this-”

“As Mr. Weasley is no longer an employee of my department it would be highly inappropriate for me to launch an investigation into his personal life,” Robards said firmly.

“This isn’t an investigation into his personal life,” Harry pleaded. “This is an investigation into an Auror who has suddenly abandoned his post. You’ve always said to report anything suspicious going on with our partners. What if he was confounded?”

“And what,” Robards said sharply, “aside from him ending his romantic relationship, is your suspicion based in?”

“Ron wouldn’t have just ended his relationship,” Harry said firmly. “Certainly not without talking to me first.”

“It seems obvious now to me that he didn’t want to face the very attack I am now on the receiving end of,” Robards said coldly.

“This isn’t an attack,” Harry said, trying to keep his tone even. “Sir.”

“Auror Potter,” Robards said sternly, “you have barged into my office, with a civilian nevertheless, demanding I launch an investigation on someone because they decided to end their romantic relationship. I can only imagine what you might have said to him if he attempted to approach you while making his decision.”

“Ron is my best mate—“

“And yet, not a good enough friend to indulge you in his plans.” Robards cut across.

Harry stared hard at his boss, his jaw working as he formulated a response appropriate to such an accusation, but was distracted by a sniffle. He turned to look at Hermione who was staring at Robards with quivering lips.

“Sir, I know how desperate we sound,” Hermione said in a soft voice just above a whisper. “But you don’t understand how powerful our bond is. Ron and I have been with Harry since we were eleven, over half our lives. The three of us have done everything together. A day hasn’t passed where we haven’t all spoken with one another.

“We have our disagreements, I won’t pretend that we don’t, but it’s not like we had a row. I went home on Friday thinking that everything was fine only for my husband to be standing there with a packed bag telling me he didn’t want to be with me anymore.” She paused, a tear leaking down her cheek which she wiped away with a forceful determination. “Even if you don’t think him ending things with me is odd, it should be alarming to you that one of your Aurors has just walked off without even telling his best friend, his partner, what he was doing.”

Robards patiently listened to Hermione and for a moment seemed to soften. Before Harry could even open his mouth to plead, beg even for him to take more concern at one of his own deserting the job he’d worked tirelessly, Robards stiffened again.

“I am unwilling to change my position,” he said in a firm voice and Harry found himself unable to look at Hermione as she crumbled. “Mr. Weasley gave me very clear reasons for his resignation—and no, I am unable to disclose that conversation Mr. Potter—and I accepted them. I am not able to investigate everyone who decides to change their lives. If you are as good of friends as you say you are then I hope you respect Mr. Weasley’s wishes and allow him to make his own decisions, no matter how much pain they bring you.”

Harry found himself simultaneously with the urge to shout at Robards and simply crawl back into bed and sleep off this nightmare. He glanced over at Hermione to find her completely defeated, staring blankly at the floor.

“I appreciate you both for voicing your concern,” he continued, standing up and gesturing towards the door. “Mr. Potter please stop back by my office after you escort Ms. Weasley out.”

It was a clear dismissal and they had no choice but to rise from their chairs. As they got to their feet Harry managed one last burning look before following Hermione out the door. Wordlessly she followed him back to the cubical he’d shared since training with Ron and fell into his chair feeling completely defeated.

Hermione stopped abruptly as if she’d been stunned, staring at the vacated desk that on Friday had been covered with papers and candy wrappers, pictures tacked up on the wall of the Weasleys and Hermione. Harry hadn’t thought to warn her, he too had been startled when he’d arrived in the morning to find every trace of an occupied desk vanished. He watched as Hermione mirrored his actions from the morning, wordlessly running her fingers over the dust-free surface, opening the drawers and probing them with her wand. Harry watched as she methodically went through each one until she reached the bottom drawer where Ron had always kept his snacks.

He felt the same pain she did as she reached in without invitation, groping around as if the contents had been made invisible. There was nothing to say to comfort her. He averted his eyes to the Daily Prophet from this morning. The front page detailed a break-in at the ministry from the weekend. The assailant had been caught and detained. Normally this would have sparked his curiosity but it seemed minute compared to what was happening. Finished with her investigation Hermione sunk into Ron’s vacant chair and faced him.

“He wouldn’t have just left us,” Hermione said, doubt creeping into her voice.

Every time she said it Harry thought she sounded a little less confident.

“No,” Harry said firmly, knowing one of them had to keep the faith alive. “Of course he hasn’t left us, Hermione, not like this.”

“It’s just like those first weeks in the tent,” Hermione said softly, “I keep turning around expecting to find him there like he’s just running late.”

“We’ll find him, Hermione, we always sort it out.”

“Auror Robards said there’s nothing to be done,” Hermione argued.

“No, Robards said there was nothing he was going to do,” Harry said. “But he doesn’t know Ron like we do. There’s still plenty of things for us to try and being told no has never stopped us before.”

“I suppose,” Hermione agreed, getting a thoughtful look. She glanced around after a moment and then in a lowered voice asked. “Harry, do you suppose this could be an Auror thing?”

It certainly hadn’t been the first time one of them had been sent away on a secret mission but somehow Harry didn’t think this was the case. Even when they weren’t supposed to, Harry and Ron told one another everything.

“Wouldn’t Robards have told me?” Harry asked skeptically.

“The both of you are always saying that there’s stuff Auror’s don’t tell to one another, secret missions, undercover,” Hermione seemed to be reanimating before his eyes and he couldn’t bear the idea of crushing her now. “Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to you about.”

“Maybe,” Harry said noncommittally but he was far from convinced. “Wouldn’t he have asked us not to draw attention to Ron’s disappearance if that was the case?”

Robards was keenly aware of their ability to accomplish the tasks they put their minds too. It had been the head Auror himself who had “debriefed” them following the final battle. Harry could still remember sitting in a cramped room at a safe house with Ron and Hermione at his side as they detailed how they managed to break into three of the most secure buildings in wizarding Britain while tracking down pieces of Voldemort’s soul. Finding Ron would pale in comparison to the skill they had used then.

Hermione seemed not to have heard him and, from the look on her face, he could tell she was already scheming on what they would be doing next to locate Ron. He noticed, not for the first time, how exhausted she looked. Ron had better be on a mission, if he wasn’t Harry was going to kick his ass for what he was putting Hermione through.

“Listen, why don’t you go home and rest?” Harry told her, knowing at once she would fight him on this. “I’ll stop by after work and tell you how things go with Robards and we can make a proper plan.”

“I really should try and go into the office today.” Hermione mused but gave in almost at once. “But I think I’ll be useless there. Ginny won’t mind if you come straight from work? You were with me all weekend.”

Harry already knew the answer to that but didn’t fancy rehashing the fight he’d had when he stopped by for a change of clothes the morning following Ron’s disappearance, even if it would distract Hermione for a minute. “I’ll pop by and see if she wants to join us.”

If he wasn’t mistaken Hermione looked less than pleased with this suggestion but Harry didn’t think they were in much danger of Ginny’s company. She hardly ever came with him to Ron and Hermione’s anymore and had been rather upset when he’d given up his weekend to comfort Hermione.

“Go home,” Harry told her firmly. “Get some rest and I’ll pick up something from that Thai place down the street that we like.”

Harry thought fleetingly that it was Ron who enjoyed the food far more than them and he could tell Hermione was sharing the same thought. He reached over to squeeze her hand.

“I’m alright,” she told him in a steady voice, squeezing his hand back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

As it turned out Harry had been right in his suspicions that Robards wouldn’t be taking the afternoon to brief him on a mission that Ron had taken. Rather the meeting was to formally inform Harry that he was being pulled from the field and should use his time to ensure his cases were properly reassigned.

There was something impossibly suspicious in these circumstances, even more so that Robards was failing to take action. No matter what Robards tried to imply, Ron hadn’t been unhappy, certainly not enough to destroy his entire life in the world they had fought so hard for.

“Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did,” Robards said, a hint of anger in his voice when Harry pressed him on this.

“He’s been my best mate for twelve years, who knows him better?”

Robards simply ignored him.

His afternoon, therefore, was spent bound to his desk, writing up all pertinent information on their ongoing cases. What didn’t help was the steady stream of people who looked into the cubical without pretense and would leave not so quietly speculating about what had happened. Harry was all too glad when the day came to a close and he hurried out of the office before anyone could try and corner him with questions.

The flaw in his plan of going to Ron and Hermione’s after work was that Ginny wasn’t due home for hours. He wondered whether to leave a note explaining himself or perhaps to stop by later after she was due home. Neither, he thought bitterly, would satisfy her and he knew it would result in a row he didn’t have the time for. He was therefore pleased to find her in the kitchen when he stepped out of the grate.

“You’re home early,” Harry said in greeting as he went to give her a kiss.

Ginny smiled, allowing him to peck her cheek. “Wilfred got hit with a blunger and we were all sent home early.”

“Ah,” Harry said, wincing in sympathy. “Is she alright?”

“Fine, but bloody pissed about it,” Ginny said, resuming her stirring of a large pot. “It’s only a broken elbow, she’ll be back Monday. I thought since I had the afternoon off I could make us a home-cooked meal. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Harry didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice as he leaned against the counter beside her. “Mind if Hermione joins us?”

Ginny stiffened and there was a certain forced niceness in her tone when she spoke again. “I thought we could have a nice night together, you were with her all weekend.”

“We were looking for Ron, Ginny,” Harry corrected her. “And I promised her dinner, I didn’t think you’d be home until late.”

“Well,” Ginny said with a huff, stirring with increased vigor. “If you’ve promised her then, by all means, go. I’m sure she couldn’t survive a night without you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Its evident none of the three of you can survive more than a few hours without going through some sort of withdrawal,” Ginny snapped, giving up all pretense. “It was foolish of me to think you’d want to spend an evening with your girlfriend.”

“Ron hasn’t come back yet,” Harry said. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Well, it’s evident how concerned you are,” Ginny snapped, “Like I said, withdrawals.”

Harry didn’t know what to say and remained silent, watching her guardedly. This seemed only to agitate her more and Ginny gave a dramatic sigh, switching off the stove suddenly and rounding on him.

“You know what? Why don’t you just take her what I’ve made for us?” she hissed, “It’s evident all I’m worth to you is a meal and keeping your bed warm.”

Before Harry could take in what she’d said Ginny fled the room and he distantly heard the fireplace roar. In the deafening silence that followed guilt overcame Harry. It was hardly the first time Ginny had expressed displeasure at the amount of time he spent with his best friends, but he couldn’t understand why she was so upset now. Her own brother was missing. Why was no one alarmed by his disappearance?

The smell still issuing from the stove was of a happier moment and with a pang of regret, Harry waved his want to keep the food. Knowing the correct course of action would be to go after her, though Harry had no desire to continue their row and no idea where she’d gone, Harry managed to write a note of apology before departing.

 

Hermione looked rather miserable as he arrived at the flat. He found her at the kitchen table, changed into weekend clothes with papers scattered all around her.

“Find anything?” Harry asked as he kissed the side of her head in greeting and looked over her shoulder.

“No,” Hermione said in a small, defeated voice.

Harry recognized the messy scrawl on the parchment in her hands at once as Ron’s and realized it was a note he’d left Hermione. The whole table was scattered with them, insignificant messages about what time he’d be home or reminding her about an event they’d promised themselves at.

“I keep finding them,” Hermione said softly, handing each as if it were a precious artifact as she cleared the table. “In my pockets and bag. I never thought to keep them, but he was always writing them.”

Harry couldn’t find anything to say as she organized them carefully.

“Find out anything?” Hermione asked hopefully. 

“I’ve been pulled off our cases,” Harry told her, gathering plates and cutlery. “I spent the day providing debriefs.”

Hermione nodded but didn’t seem as hopeful as she’d been upon leaving the office.

“I’m going to try again with Robards tomorrow, I’m positive I can convince him this needs looking into,” Harry assured her. “Aurors don’t just abandon their posts.”

It went without saying that Ron had abandoned much more than simply his post.

“I’ve been looking into tracking spells,” Hermione told him, unpacking the food. “We have enough of his things here, I think there are a few options.”

“And there’s the patronuses,” Harry reminded her, “And letters.”

They continued to talk about tracking spells throughout dinner, making lists of places he might have gone but each seemed less likely to Harry than the last. It wasn’t as if Ron had family that would hide him away, that wouldn’t at the least tell them that he was okay and just wanted some space. It was alarming to Harry that the Weasleys weren’t taking more concern with this, that no one was taking more concern with this.

“It’s getting late,” Hermione said finally, checking her watch as she stretched out. It was hardly eight but he knew she hadn’t slept much over the weekend and didn’t press her. “Won’t Ginny be wondering where you are?”

Harry didn’t feel like rehashing their latest fight and instead settled on the middle truth. “She went out tonight.”

“At least she wasn’t cross,” Hermione said pleasantly and made to begin organizing their papers. In the midst of gathering their things she paused. Harry followed her eyes to see she’d been distracted by the ring on her fingers and watched as she subtly tugged on them. Catching his eyes Hermione gave a small smile. “If he’s dead they’ll come off.”

This didn’t make Harry feel any better.

“Get some rest,” Harry told her as they got to their feet. “You think you’ll go to work tomorrow?”

“I daresay, I hate to think how much I missed today, I couldn’t imagine missing two days in a row,” Hermione told him.

Personally, Harry thought the department would survive without her for a couple of days but didn’t dream of trying to tell her again to take a break. Instead, he put his arms around her, giving her a tight hug before reluctantly pulling away and walking back towards the fire.

“I’ll stop by for lunch tomorrow, yeah?” he said, gathering his traveling cloak. “We’ll figure this out Hermione, we always do.”

 


	3. Dominios

A month had passed since Ron’s disappearance and while Harry and Hermione had spent every free moment investigating, they were no closer to finding out what had caused Ron to seemingly abandon them. Each night they found themselves interrogating friends and acquaintances, searched time and time again all the places they suspected he might be but to no avail. And what was more alarming still was that no one seemed to be taking concern in the strange turn of events. Even the Weasleys had shown less than appropriate concern, Molly had begun to refuse their owls and Ginny, who finally admitted after a week that something abnormal was going on, was reluctant to search for him.

“He’ll turn up Harry,” Ginny said to him in an exhausted tone when he’d snapped at her for implying he should be home for dinner more. “It’s not like he’s just vanished.”

But it seemed he simply had. What was even more strange was that the harder they pressed, the more suspicious others were becoming of them.

“You’ve made the front page,” Ginny as as she re-entered the bedroom from fetching the paper. She unrolled it as she settled back down next to him, tilting the paper so he could read over her shoulder. “ _Famed Golden Trio Fractures_.”

_Weeks have passed since the famed Golden Trio have been seen in public. Sources say that Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger have split following a fight. The two celebrity love birds are most famous for their friendship with Harry Potter and their assistance in defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Ronald and Hermione married after a brief courtship after Ronald publicly proposed to Hermione during the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts._

_Family and friends say the split was unexpected, though the public have been witness to Ronald and Hermione’s frequent disagreements. According to ministry record, Ronald has resigned from the Auror department and has not been seen in public since the split. It appears Harry Potter has taken Hermione Granger’s side in the divorce over his former partner and reported best friend. Harry and Hermione have been seen together in public both at the ministry and in the wizarding community though they could not be reached for comment._

“Friends and family?” Harry asked angrily. “Who on earth would give a comment?”

“Mum I expect,” Ginny said offhandedly, turning to the sports section. “You knew she’d take Ron’s side in all this.”

“What?” Harry asked of her, utterly stunned. “Ron is missing! He hasn’t left Hermione.”

“Well, he’s missing,” Ginny agreed, and then in a more hesitant voice, “But, he’s also left Hermione.”

“You can’t be serious Ginny,” Harry said, throwing back the covers and standing. “You can’t honestly think they’ve just split.”

“Look,” Ginny said with a sigh, throwing down her paper and looking at him. “All I know is Ron told Hermione he didn’t want to be with her anymore and he’s gone off to take some space for himself. If this were really an issue, wouldn’t the Aurors be looking into it?”

“If that was true,” Harry said ignoring her comment about the Aurors, utterly astounded that she could possibly believe the narrative that the paper was pushing on them. “Then why wouldn’t he have told me? At least let me know where he was going?”

Ginny looked at him for a moment, hesitant. “Maybe, because he knew you’d take her side and didn’t want to fight with you too.”

Harry found himself at a complete loss for words. How, for the second time, could someone throw into question his own relationship with Ron? After everything they’d been through together, all these years, all the times Ron had refused to leave his side even when Harry had requested of it him. He considered reminding her of the conversation he’d had with Ron, the last time he’d seen him, but knew it would be of little use. It would only lead to a row.

“I should go and see if Hermione’s alright,” Harry said, giving up on her.

“Of course,” Ginny answered bitterly, shaking her newspaper straight and glaring at it.

“The whole world is under the assumption that your brother has left his wife,” Harry said, unable to quell his own anger. “I think I should check on her.”

Ginny shot him an angry look. “Well, he has left his wife, hasn’t he?”

Unable to help himself Harry turned to face her. “Something’s going on here Ginny.”

“It’s always something,” she said shortly.

“What are you on about?” he asked bitterly.

“I’ve always been second to them,” Ginny said as if it should have been obvious. “You care more about your relationship with them than you do about your relationship with me.”

“Ginny,” Harry said, unable to comprehend why she was missing the glaringly obvious issue in this situation. “Your brother has gone missing and you act like you couldn’t be bothered-”

“What if it were George or Percy?” Ginny cut him off, getting to her feet. “Would you be lookinghalf as hard if one of my other brothers ran off?”

“He’s my best friend,” Harry argued.

“And what am I?” Ginny asked, gesturing to herself. “What am I to you Harry? My brother has _allegedly_ gone missing and you’re too busy comforting his wife to even bother with how I’m feeling.”

“You don’t even think he’s gone missing—“

“That’s not the point!” Ginny shouted. “I’m not as important to you as them, I’ve never been. When you left it was with no explanation, you ended things and you disappeared and you didn’t bother to fill me in on what happened with the three of you! How’s this any different?”

“You knew what I was doing then!”

“All I knew if you were off traipsing the world with them, the people you actually cared about and trusted!” she shot back, her eyes blazing.

“I had the whole fate of the wizarding world on my shoulders,” Harry said, unable to comprehend that why, now, five years after the battle had ended she was still using this against him. “What should I have done? Risked your safety and ours to send you letters?”

“It’s always the whole of the wizarding world, isn’t it Harry?” she shouted. “It’s the whole wizarding world, or it’s them or something else but it’s never going to be me!”

“I thought you knew what I was doing,” Harry said. “I thought you understood.”

They stood, panting at each other in anger.

“And I thought you loved me more than anyone else,” She was no longer screaming and a different, heartbroken expression dawned on her face. “Isn’t that what you tell me? That you love me more than anyone else? Did you actually believe it when you said it or have you been lying to yourself as much as you’ve been lying to me?”

She said this all with such speed that it took him several moments to work out what she’d said.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, completely befuddled.

“You’ve always cared about them more than you’ve cared about me,” Ginny said, no longer looking at him as she stared around the room. Harry was reminded of when Hermione was trying to work out a complex problem. “I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realize that you love them more than you love me.”

He stared at her, openmouthed, as her meaning washed over him.

“Is that what you think this is?” Harry demanded. “You think that now that my best friend is missing I’m using it as an opportunity to make a move on his wife? I’m trying to find Ron!”

“You act like it’s something novel, like spending every night over there is something different. I meant it when I said I feel like a bedwarmer for you.” There were tears in her eyes. “Why can’t you just admit to yourself that you’d rather be with them than be with me?”

“Ginny-“

“No!” she shouted back, conviction in her voice. “I wake up most mornings to you gone, I fall asleep at night waiting for you to come home, on the weekends, I’m lucky to see you at the Burrow or if by some chance you decide to invite me along.”

“You have games on the weekends,” Harry snapped back, unwilling to accept the accusation that it was his fault alone for their conflicting schedules. “Games that I always go to—“

“With them!” Ginny shouted.

“What, do you want me just to sit alone and watch you play?” He asked. “Would that make you feel better Ginny? If I just followed you around like some lovesick puppy, waiting for you to finish so you can pay attention to me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” she snapped. “It would just be nice to have you at an afterparty without both of them on your arms.”

Harry glared at her from across the room, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re always with them Harry, sometimes I think you asked to move in together so you would know where I was and I wouldn’t be surprising you over there.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, utterly perplexed. “Why would we move in together if I didn’t want to live with you?”

“We don’t live together Harry,” Ginny sighed. “We sleep in the same bed and share the same shower but I’m lucky if we exchange more than a dozen words a week. I only fit into this fantasy you’ve concocted. You remaining thick as thieves with your best friends while a pretty girl is on your arm and waiting for you by the door. If I wasn’t his sister, would you have even been interested in me?”

He felt completely lost and was aware of the stupid look on his face.

“Tell me that you feel for me what you feel for them,” Ginny demanded.

“Ginny-“

“I’m serious Harry,” she went on, pleading with him, “You keep telling me that they are your best friends. Those are your words, over and over again. They are your best friends. They are the people you like talking to the most, the people you want to share your life with. You care for them, love them, Harry,” she paused, tears now leaking down her face and in a small voice said, “more than you’ve ever loved me.”

Her words sliced through him like a knife but he found himself unable to respond.

“This isn’t what I want Harry,” Ginny said resolutely, reaching up to wipe away a stubborn tear from her cheek. “I’m not happy, and neither are you.”

“Ginny,” he pleaded, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

“I’d like you to leave now,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. “I’d like you to go.”

“Ginny, this is my home. Where am I supposed to go?”

It seemed to take all of her effort not to roll her eyes at him. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Harry. Perhaps to the women’s home you’ve spent the past month in. Perhaps to the home of the people who matter the most to you.”

 

Harry was still in his pajamas when he stumbled out of the grate. Hermione was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the paper in her hands.

“There it is,” Hermione whispered as he threw his rutsack into the armchair and sat down next to her. “The whole world knows.”

He glanced at the paper having completely forgotten the catalyst of the argument. On the page was a picture of the three of them from a ministry event last winter, a line dividing Ron from the both of them. It had been a rather nice picture of them, Ron had taped it up in his cubical. Fleetingly Harry wondered what had happened to it.

Hermione was studying his wardrobe choice and then looked over to his bag questioningly.

“Ginny and I broke up,” he told her heavily.

“Want a drink?” she asked to his surprise. He’d been expecting an interrogation.

To his continued astonishment, Hermione reached around behind her and produced a half-empty coffee smelling strongly of whiskey.

“Bit early to be drinking,” he teased, taking a healthy sip and nearly sputtering.

“I wasn’t expecting an audience,” Hermione said dryly.

Harry found himself grinning at her as she got up and went to the kitchen to make a second cup. As he watched her go, Ginny’s words washed over him again. Had he been in love with them all this time and never once realized it? He knew how it felt to be with them, how easy it was to spend his day with them. He never felt as at ease with anyone else, not even Ginny. But was this love?

Hermione returned, studying him with patient eyes. He knew she was burning with questions and with another gulp for the courage he filled her in on all of the things Ginny had said. She listened wordlessly as he rambled about Ginny’s speculations, how baseless he found them, on and on until—

“Maybe there was some truth to what Ginny said,” Harry finally admitted in a small voice. “Maybe she was right about me being too close with the both of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he paused, unsure of how much Hermione could manage after everything they’d been through in the past month. “Ginny thought I was in love with the both of you. Thought I enjoyed being with you more than I enjoyed being with her.”

He stopped, trying to work out his question for himself. “I should enjoy being with the person I love as much as I enjoy being with you, shouldn’t I?”

“Maybe Ginny wasn’t the right person,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, taking another drink. It was hard to suddenly accept that what he’d spent the past five years believing, that he’d been in love with someone that now he couldn’t even consider a friend, had all been a lie. “Maybe I wasn’t really in love with her after all.”

She sighed, looking at him with pity. “I’m sorry Harry.”

“Yeah,” he said numbly, glancing back down at the paper.

“Harry,” Hermione said hesitantly after a long moment and, always astute, asked the question he himself was mulling over. “Do you love us?”

He was unsure of what to say and looked to Hermione as if she could provide him with the right answer.

“Isn’t this how love is supposed to feel?” he asked of her, feeling a sudden change in the room. “Wanting to spend all of your time with someone? Wanting to hear about their day even when you’re with them for all of it? Wanting to be when them even when you’re cross?”

Hermione was giving him the same look she usually reserved for her studies, intense and almost at a solution. “And that’s how you feel about the both of us? Not just Ron? Or me?”

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what she was asking but answered, “Yes” all the same.

He did feel for Ron in the same way he felt for Hermione. In his mind, they were one and the same. He had as much difficulty in separating his feelings for Hermione as he did separating his feelings for Ron. It had always been the three of them. His pulse quickened at this silent admission of his feelings for the both of them.

Suddenly, Hermione looked different, somehow softer and Harry found himself resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and run his fingers through her hair, a desire to feel her soft skin under the pads of his fingers. They had sat on this same couch, just as close, just as inebriated, how many times before? But suddenly she felt much too close.

Harry cleared his throat in hopes that it would dissipate the heat growing between them. At his noise Hermione blinked and came back to her senses, falling away from him, her eyes still locked on Harry’s.

“We can’t stop looking for him,” Hermione said if only to bring Ron back into the conversation. “Ron’s still out there somewhere.”

Guilt washed over Harry as he realized suddenly that he’d been lusting, for however briefly, over his best friend’s wife. Even if his feelings for Ron were just as strong and inseparable from his feelings towards Hermione, he could hardly explain that now. Ron wasn’t here and he couldn’t justify the shift in his feelings without him.

“Should we try and visit Molly and Arthur today?” Harry asked quietly without any conviction. He remembered a moment later what Ginny had said and was grateful when Hermione shot him down.

“I don’t think she’d very much like to see me, you know how she enjoys the prophet,” Hermione said dryly and surveyed him. “Or you for that matter for breaking her daughter’s heart.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. “I suppose you’re right.”

He hadn’t considered what ending his relationship with Ginny would do towards his relationship with the Weasleys. Sensing his sorrow Hermione came over, cuddling to his side. She felt warm against him and solid.

“We could just stay here,” Hermione said quietly to him. “Get drunk, cry.”

“Hermione Granger, suggesting getting drunk before noon?” Harry teased. “We really have corrupted you.”

He watched her grin and roll her eyes simultaneously and it was only when she thought he was looking away that he saw her mutter, _Hermione Weasley._


	4. A Meeting at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezy’s

They’d hardly moved all day, not even to change out of the pajamas. Harry couldn’t remember the last time since Hermione’d gone to school and them to Auror training that they’d been so lazy.

“We should go to bed,” Harry said quietly, turning Hermione’s wrist to look at the time.

“Mmh,” Hermione said sleepy, blinking as she roused. “Come on then.”

“I’ll just kip here,” Harry told her, stretching out as she stood up.

“Honestly Harry,” Hermione said, gathering the dishes and sending them to the sink with a flick of her wand. “The couch is really awful, we’re going to replace it as soon as we can get a proper place.”

She paused as if realized what she’d just said. “When I get a proper place I suppose.”

“We’re going to find him, Hermione,” Harry told her firmly, standing up never the less. “It’s only rumors. How could they know if they haven’t talked to him either?”

In light of the new thoughts, Harry had been mulling over all day he felt strange jumping into bed with her, even if it was just to sleep. But, he couldn’t stand the sad look on her face and went to her, slipping under the covers on the side she normally slept. They weren’t touching but he could still smell her beside him, the scent invitingly familiar and floral.

Hermione seemed to take just as long as he to fall asleep but he was grateful that she was no longer questioning him aboutGinny or the racing thoughts stemming from the breakup. They’d talked it through, many times in fact, throughout the course of the day, but Harry had been careful not to get as close to discussing his newly realized feelings for her. He was still sorting out for himself what it meant to love her and Ron and didn’t like the idea of her knowing until he was certain what he wanted.

He had known Hermione was attractive for ages. Unlike Ron, it hadn’t taken him until they were fourteen to figure out that she was a girl. But somehow she had always seemed off limits in a territory he wouldn’t dare breach. She had always, even before they realized their feelings for one another, been Ron’s.

And there wasn’t a relationship in his life as important as his friendship with Ron. Even at fourteen, Ron had been the person he would miss the most. He knew how strongly he felt for his best mate, he would give anything for his happiness. It was why, as soon as he realized what they meant to one another, he’d repressed any thought he’d ever had for Hermione and thrown himself out of the path.

It did nothing to quell the swooping sensation in his chest when he saw them together. Harry had always told himself that it was seeing their happiness that it had made him happy too. He had never considered the prospect of a deeper meaning. Perhaps, the reason Harry felt so strongly seeing them together was his own desires.

A whole new world of possibilities opened at this thought, memories of them kissing, watching their hands lazily trace the other’s skin. It resulted in a different sort of longing and as his heart began to beat faster Harry forced his mind away from these ideas, aware still of Hermione beside him, smelling so comforting and feeling incredibly close.

Harry wasn’t aware of himself drifting off but when he awoke, Hermione had rolled over onto her stomach, facing him with her arm draped over his chest protectively. He used this opportunity to study her, the familiar lips which had so often provided words of encouragement or condemnation when he needed it. The worn lines under her eyes from distress over the past month, the curve of a smile on her lips as emotion from her sleeping mind flitted across her face.

The lines were becoming blurred again. Harry wondered when the last time they had clearly defined boundaries between the three of them. It was hardly the first time he had shared a bed with one, both of them even. After the final battle, they’d slept in the same room, the same bed, for the summer and it was only Hermione going to school that inspired them to get separate sleeping arrangements.

How many times had they been up late talking only for one of them to fall asleep and the other two to follow suit? How many times had Harry popped over to have a quick word with Ron only to find them already in bed and joined them, ultimately falling asleep at the foot of their bed and waking up beside them? How had he himself failed to realize the change in their relationship, subtle, over time, and resulting with them here now? Perhaps, Harry thought, not for the first time, Ginny had a point when she’d accused him of lusting after his best mates.

 

It took some convincing, but by noon the next morning, Hermione had agreed to make their standing appointment with George, just as they’d done every weekend the past month. He alone seemed invested in their case, meeting with them each week to strategize on what had happened. They set out midmorning to a surprisingly cool September day, avoiding the whispers and stares of fellow Diagon Alley patrons.

George was less than pleased to see them and it became evident at once that Ginny had beaten them there. From the moment they arrived he was trying to shake them and when Harry stopped mid-sentence to question him, George answered, “The timing of this is becoming a little suspicious, that’s all.”

“You can’t believe what the gossip columns are saying,” Harry said, outraged that another person was turning against them. “That’s not why Ginny and I broke up.”

“Well, no, only…” George said carefully, fiddling now with his wand and not quite meeting their eyes. “You two didn’t waste much time moving in together.”

“Your sister kicked me out,” Harry said at once, pleased when George stiffened. “Where else was I supposed to go?”

Ginny had told him to go there after all, even if it was in a dig at him.

“It’s not like we haven’t seen the flat before,” George muttered. “And after what Ron—“

He cut himself off abruptly and Harry was so stunned that his retort of sleeping on the couch was lost.

“After Ron what?” Hermione pressed, her eyes as wide as Harry had ever seen them. “Have you seen him? What’s going on?”

“I haven’t seen him,” George said hurriedly, visibly frightened of Hermione. “I just heard,” he hesitated. “About a letter.”

“A letter?” they asked together, exchanging another excited look at this new information. Hermione continued. “A letter to who?”

“To mum,” George said. “I didn’t see it myself.”

“Well, what did it say?” Hermione continued, her voice rising in pitch now. “What did Molly tell you?”

“Mum wasn’t the one who told me about it,” George said sheepishly.

“How did you find out about it then?”

“Mum mentioned something to Ginny when Angelina popped over yesterday,” George answered. “I don’t know anything more about it.”

“Then can we ask her?” Harry asked in his most diplomatic voice.

George eyed them both nervously but finally seemed to decide that telling them no was going to be more trouble than giving in. He gestured weakly towards the stairs and followed them slowly as Harry and Hermione charged towards the flat above the store. Angelina was alone when he entered the flat and seemed surprised to see them.

“Hermione,” she gasped, getting to her feet and walking over to greet them. “Harry, what are you both doing here?”

Harry noticed she shot George a startled look who gave a rather defeated sigh. Angelina had been among those who’d taken to avoiding them in the past few weeks.

“We’ve heard Ron’s written a letter to Molly,” Hermione said hurriedly.

Harry thought it better she was speaking, his blood was still boiling at the accusations that George had made about him and Hermione.

“She mentioned something about a letter,” Angelina said carefully, drawing George to her side and eyeing Hermione nervously. “I didn’t read it myself, you’ll need to ask her about it.”

“I would,” Hermione said softly, “But she’s been ignoring my letters.”

Harry knew Hermione had been taking the estrangement hard. It had seemed to follow all at once, Ron disappearing and then Molly not returning Hermione’s attempts to reach out.

“What happened?” Angelina asked comfortingly, genuine curiosity in her expression. “Did you two have some sort of row?”

“No,” Hermione insisted, looking rather miserable. “Nothing happened.”

Harry knew himself she’d spent the past month trying to answer this very question. Hermione looked on the verge of tears and Harry resisted putting his arm around her.

“One Friday I came home to find Ron standing in the hallway with his bag packed and this expression I’d never seen before. I asked him where he was going, I thought it might be something with work and he wouldn’t answer me. I asked him what was wrong and h-he,” Hermione stumbled, drawing a shaky breath, “he told me he was done, that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I was so stunned I just stood there like an idiot and before I could come to my senses he told me not to follow him and, and he left.”

Harry had heard this story so many times now it felt more like a memory. He felt physical pain as Hermione retold how Ron had abandoned them, left his own happy life with no explanation.

“What did he take with him?” George asked.

Harry thought this was an odd question, but didn’t want to question him showing genuine interest in Ron’s disappearance.

“A toothbrush and some clothes, not even enough to last a week,” Hermione said. “He didn’t take any money, not even his broom.”

“Odd,” George commented, a thoughtful look on his face, but seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject.

“And he didn’t say anything to you, Harry?” Angelina asked of him.

“Nothing,” Harry confirmed, stressing the word. “We were talking about what to get Hermione for her birthday at the office and then I’m being pulled from my bed in the middle of the night.”

George and Angelina shared a significant look. Angelina let out a sigh and said in a quiet voice, “The letter said that you and he had split Hermione, and asked us all to give him some space while he figured out what he wanted next.”

Hermione let out a choked sob, her hands flying to her mouth.

“He didn’t give any explanation, nothing about where he was going?” Harry demanded they both shook their heads. “We’re sure it’s his handwriting, not a forgery?”

“As sure as we can be,” Angelina answered.

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley’s refusal to see them made sense. If they could just see the letter, perhaps they could prove that it hadn’t really been him that had written it. Perhaps it would even be enough to prove to Gawain that this needed investigation.

“There’s something else,” Angelina added, her voice hesitant and she wasn’t meeting their eyes. “When he said he and Hermione had split he said it was “for reasons we would soon discover for ourselves”.”

Her statement hung heavy in the air for a moment as it washed over Harry. Had Ron known of the feelings Harry hadn’t even been aware of himself?

“You can’t possibly think he meant Hermione and I were sneaking around?” Harry asked, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut.

Neither of them said anything but they didn’t need to. Hermione, now past the point of looking miserable, had a completely devoid expression on her face. She didn’t seem to be taking them in, staring down at the floor, motionless.

“You don’t think you could convince Molly to give us the letter?” Harry asked.

“I really think you should give her some space,” Angelina said sympathetically. “Let her see that this was all a misunderstanding.”

“And how are we supposed to do that if we can’t even explain ourselves?” Harry demanded, his cheeks feeling hot.

Angelina didn’t seem to have an answer to this and turned to George who was watching Hermione suspiciously.

“You’re really saying that he left with no explanation?” George asked, looking as serious as Harry had ever seen him. “That there’s nothing going on with you and Harry?”

“If that were true,” Hermione said in a blank voice, looking up at him. “Why would Harry and I be trying so hard to find him?”

George didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

They didn’t stay for long after, declining a polite offer for lunch in favor of returning back home. It was only once they were in the same confines of the apartment that Harry began to worry about what would happen should one of the Weasleys pop by unannounced to find them sharing the same bed. Ron, he had thought, would understand their desire for closeness. They were trying to fill his void after all. The other Weasleys didn’t seem as likely to accept this explanation.

“They can’t,” Hermione told him in a monotone voice when he put this to her. “You and Auror Robards are the only one keyed into our wards, everyone else sets off an alarm.”

“Not even Ginny?” Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione paused and shook her head. “No, we never thought to.”

Suddenly Ginny’s suspicions didn’t seem so baseless. Neither did her brother’s disappearance.


	5. Leaning In

The weeks began to bleed together in the same way they’d run together in the tent. There was nothing to occupy him as Robards would only occasionally allow Harry to do his proper job. Even then it was only as a substitute for Aurors who were off duty. Never allowed to carry a case for himself or else assigned another partner, Harry was beginning to detest the job he had so coveted.

To make matters worse, his co-workers, whom he’d always gotten along with, held him accountable for Ron’s disappearance. They all looked down on him for what the public was perceiving as fact; he and Hermione had been secretly together and when Ron had found out he had left them. It was a personal betrayal to the Auror office and though he was not guilty, Harry was paying for it dearly.

The Prophet and the various wizarding magazines had not ceased in their slander campaign against them. In lieu of more exciting news, Harry and Hermione seemed to be favorites for the front page. First titles like _Harry Potter Leaves Hollyhead Chaser Ginny Weasley_ with comments from Ginny hinting less than subtlely about the real reason behind the pair’s split. As the weeks went on the articles became more direct, _Harry Potter Seen Around Town with Divorcee Hermione Granger_ with quotes from unnamed co-workers about how they continued, as they always had, to get lunch together. Week after week it continued endless articles constructing a neat narrative of how the Golden Trio had fractured which was so convincing at times that Harry had begun to wonder if they had been wrong about things all along.

With nothing but Ron and paperwork to occupy his mind, Harry was left with much of his time to ponder his new found feelings for Ron and Hermione. It was madding, his obsessive thoughts about his best friends. _Was it love?_ He asked himself over and over again without drawing any real conclusions.

Meanwhile, Hermione was steadily working herself into madness. Each article she took as a personal blow, reading them with tight lips and blasting them with her wand. She hardly slept, staying up for hours after Harry retired for the night and rising before him. Their weekends were spent with fruitless forays into a wizarding world who was increasingly resistant to their quest. What little support they once had trickled away with each article alleging their affair and betrayal of the very subject of their search.

 

“I told you I’d let you know if I heard anything,” Neville snapped when Harry had tried to ask him about Ron again on a Tuesday night in October.

“I wasn’t coming over to ask you,” Harry told him, aware that Neville had gotten the attention of the others in the pub of the Leaky Cauldron. He’d only been passing through after work to go and pick up a set of robes Hermione had ordered him and Ron ages ago that had just come in and spotted Neville alone at the bar.

“Yes, you were,” Neville said shortly. “I told you if I heard anything I’d let you know.”

He looked up and across the room to where Hannah was pointedly avoiding his eye as if fearing he would come and question her next.

“You lot really believe he’s just left then?” Harry asked in a low voice.

Neville followed Harry’s eye and sighed. “If what you’re saying is true then no, we don’t think he’d leave Hermione like that.”

“But?” Harry prompted.

“But it is rather suspect that Ron would just run off without telling you unless he had decided to end things with Hermione,” Neville said in a hesitant voice.

It was hardly the first time Harry had been told this. Where at first it had made his blood boil, the more times he heard it the more it seemed to convince him. Perhaps Ron had run off from them.

“He’ll have to come back round eventually,” Neville said at the helpless expression on Harry’s face. “These things will blow over, they always do.”

 

 

It was a returned owl that was finally Hermione’s breaking point. Every Thursday, without fail, Hermione had gone to the post on her lunch and ordered an owl to deliver a letter for her. Harry never asked what was in these letters, it wasn’t his business what she wrote to him. But when the handsome tawny owl knocked on their window that November afternoon, something in Hermione shifted. It was Harry who had to retrieve the thick envelope with Hermione’s small, neat handwriting on the front. The owl gave an apologetic look before taking off, Harry was always amazed in the creature’s ability to show emotion.

“I put a tracking spell on them,” Hermione said in a faraway voice as Harry closed the window, cutting off the bitter wind. “I was hoping…”

But what she’d been hoping didn’t need to be voiced. Wordlessly he set the unopened envelope on the side table and went to the kitchen to give her a moment alone. He made as much noise as possible but it wasn’t enough to mask the sounds of her sobbing and cursing. When her crying subsided he emerged, carrying two glasses of wine and he settled in his now defunct spot on the couch next to her.

“Stupid,” Hermione muttered to herself, draining half the glass he’d placed in her hands. “An absolute…how could I…?” Her eyes were dangerous as she finished her glass and looked around. Without warning, she raised her wand and shouted “Accio wine bottle.”

The coerced bottle came zooming from the counter with alarming speed and it was only thanks to Harry’s seeker reflexes that he was able to catch it before it smashed against the opposite wall.

“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, still not looking at him as she snatched the bottle from his hands.

“Hermione-“ he tried but she seemed uninterested in listening to him, shaking her head and staring hard at the fireplace.

They sat in silence as Hermione poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass and drank from it, scarcely pacing herself. Her eyes stayed wet and angry as she soothed herself with the drink, muttering to herself every so often words that made Harry’s heart hurt. He was scarcely done with his own glass, feeling as though he should keep his wits about him, when Hermione set aside her empty glass and moved rather close to him. She stared at him intently, clearly a question on her mind.

“This isn’t an Auror thing, is it?” she demanded of him in a firm voice. “I’m not just going to wake up tomorrow with him at my doorstep with an apology and an explanation.”

“No,” Harry said softly. “It’s not.”

“But,” Hermione said miserably. “You couldn’t even tell me even if it was.”

She looked suddenly eager and was leaning even closer. Their faces were now just inches from one another and even at this moment, with tears running down her splotchy face, Harry couldn’t help but notice how mesmerizing Hermione’s eyes were.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, begging him. “Harry, do you know where he is?”

Harry swallowed heavily, his mouth felt impossibly wet. He could feel her breath on his cheek. “No.”

Any hope that had lingered vanished from her eyes. Hermione drew back and Harry missed the warmth of her being so close. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wine bottle and she curled into herself.

“He’s gone,” Hermione murmured to herself. “He’s really gone. He fell out of love with me and he left.”

“He’s an idiot then,” Harry told her at once. “How could anyone ever fall out of love with you?”

Hermione looked over at him again, analyzing him as if he’d just given her new information.

“Seriously Hermione, you are the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re brave and loyal and beautiful and if Ron stopped seeing that then he didn’t deserve you.” Harry felt his face grow hot as he rambled. “You deserve someone who never stops seeing how amazing you are.”

Harry hadn’t been aware of Hermione drawing closer but suddenly she was before him. The tears were no longer steaming down her face and there was a new curiosity in her eyes. Harry wondered if she could hear his racing heart, beating impossibly loud in his ears. The gap between them closed and experimentally her lips brushed against his.

She began to draw back and Harry arched forward, pressing their lips together purposefully. He expected her to stiffen but as he placed his hand on the back of her neck, fingers threading in her hair as he’d wondered about for years she responded with enthusiasm, keeping the kiss as her hands wound around the back of his neck.

Harry’s glasses dug into the bridge of his nose but before he could say anything, Hermione’d already pushed them off of his face, her delicate fingers brushing against his skin and giving him a momentary wave of pleasure. Hermione gave a soft moan as their lips parted and his tongue swept her lips. He drew her onto his lap, hands roaming her back, twisting in the fabric of her shirt.

When they separated for air he blinked at her beadily, panting heavily. He opened his mouth to say something but Hermione stopped him, putting one finger over his lips as her other hand swept her hair over one shoulder. Taking it as an invitation he dove into the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent. She was intoxicatingly warm and not just from the wine. When he found her pulse point he nipped at it with his teeth she let out a moan that went straight to his core. His hands slipped under her shirt, her soft skin radiating warmth as the pads of his fingers pressed into her hips, pulling her tighter to him.

The small piece of logic left in his brain told him they should stop, pause and evaluate what they were doing before it went too far and couldn’t laugh it off when this terrible nightmare was over. But his voice of reason had always been Hermione and she was currently removing his shirt and experimentally running her hands down his chest with a look of satisfaction.

When she opened her mouth to speak, or perhaps to let out another one of those breathy moans he had always associated with her sneaking off with Ron he captured her lips possessively.

They didn’t stop. Harry didn’t think he could have stopped even if he’d wanted to. He avoided her eyes as his hands slipped further under her shirt, bushing against the band of her bra,relishing in the soft skin he had only ever caught glimpses of. For her part she was just as eager, her own hands roaming over him possessively, her mouth capturing his whenever he made to speak, and taking his hand in hers to guide him into the bedroom.

 

When Harry woke Hermione was already alert, her bare body no longer tangled with his own and but instead staring up at the ceiling with the covers drawn tightly around her. Tentatively he reached over, brushing a hair from her face and she flinched, looking over at him. What they’d done in the pale afternoon light came to him in waves, guilty flashes of an experiment that should never have occurred.

“Do you feel like we’re betraying him?” Harry asked, his own voice wavering.

Hermione turned to him, a wounded look in her eyes. “He ended things and disappeared without an explanation. I don’t know what there’s left to betray.”

Suddenly Harry’s throat felt very tight as he thought of the Ron sized hole between them.

“Four months,” she continued a forced calm in her tone. “Four months ago he left me, Harry. No explanation, no reason, not even a fight. And since then I have spent every single day fighting to figure out what happened to him. All while the world we’d built together has slowly shunned me.

“Molly won’t even take my owls. The people who were supposed to protect me, take care of me if something happened to him are acting like I am the one who caused this. Most days I feel like I’ve actually, properly, gone insane. And you have been the only person who believes me, the only person who loves him enough to see that something is very wrong here.”

Hermione paused, looking at him. Harry felt overwhelmed by her sudden outpouring of grief. It hadn’t occurred to him how much the Weasley’s abandonment had affected her too.

“I am giving up hope and accepting the reality that everyone else has already said is true.” She drew a shaky breath and her next words sounded as though they were causing her physical pain. “Ron left me.” 

There was a stinging silence and it took her a full minute before she went on, decisively. “I can’t betray him, because there’s nothing left to betray.”

“We’ll keep looking—“

“He doesn’t want to be found,” Hermione cut across him. “I’m tired of spending all my energy on someone who clearly has no interest in me anymore—in us anymore.”

She propped herself up on one arm to look at him, the sheet falling to expose her shoulder revealing the outline of a mark he’d left on her pale skin.

“You have always been there for me Harry, you’re my best friend. And I’m not asking you to marry me or commit to me, but clearly, the rest of the world thinks that we belong together and I’m starting to see the truth in what they are saying.” Hermione’s voice was urgent. “I think we could be good together, I think we could manage to be happy with one another.”

Harry’s heart began to thump rather loudly in his chest again. “And what if he comes back?”

Hermione paused, looking at him seriously. “Even if he were to walk through that door this second, I don’t think there is anything he could say that would make me forgive him for this.”

He glanced over at the door despite himself, noting his pants that’d been discarded in the doorway.

“Is there any explanation he could give you that would make you forgive him?” Hermione questioned, her eyes probing as if he could convince her out of what she’d just confessed.

“No,” Harry admitted after a long moment of thought. “I don’t think there would be.”

 

 

 

The end of every one of his nerves felt raw and frayed. He could feel himself groaning as he attempted to straighten himself, force open his heavy eyes and figure out where he was.

 _Hermione_. He told himself. Something’s happened to Hermione, where is Hermione?

The whisper of her name made him jolt to awareness. His eyes flew open and he grasped for his wand. To his surprise and alarm, his hand wouldn’t move but a few inches and he realized he was bound as if by invisible ropes to the bed he was resting on. The room was unfamiliar, plain white walls illuminated only by the glow from the window beside his bed. If he strained his neck enough he could just make out a street below, desolate in the darkness.

Hurriedly he tried to think back, still yanking his hands as if he could free himself from the magic by brute force. His mind was stubbornly blank and he’d no recollection to how he’d gotten here. From beyond the door came the footsteps of someone coming closer. Ron knew he only had seconds now to free himself before whoever was coming for him entered. The magic would not give way and panic bubbled in his chest as the door slowly swung open and he was almost blinded as the entrant lit the lamps.

He blinked against the sudden brightness as a figure shut the door behind them and conjured a chair. As Gawain Robards came into focus, a warm sensation flooded his body. He felt like he was floating. Nothing hurt anymore.

Clearly, there had been a misunderstanding and now Robards was here to set everything right. He opened his mouth in greeting but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate and Robards paid him little mind as he undid his traveling cloak and draped it over the back of the chair before settling down.

“Do you know who you are?” Robards asked after a long look of pity.

What kind of stupid question was that? Of course, he knew who he was.

“Yes,” Ron answered at once. “I’m Auror Weasley.”

“Do you know where you are?” Robards asked.

 _Say yes_.

“Yes,” Ron answered though he’d no idea where he was. He could only guess a safe house, though he’d never seen anything like this, or perhaps St. Mungo’s.

Robards nodded. “And do you know how you came to be here?”

_Lie._

“Yes,” Ron answered despite himself. A momentary panic rushed over him replaced again by that soothing warmth.

_It would be foolish to let your boss on that you’ve no clue what’s happening._

“Could you then please enlighten me as to why you were found attempting to make alterations on the document providing recommendations for Avery’s continued sentencing?”

_Smirk._

Ron could feel the corner of his mouth moving as a small, disrespectful noise was emitted. What was going on? He had no idea anything had been going on in the Avery case. All he knew was he’d been in Azkaban since they’d rounded him up after the war. It had been one of their first missions post-training, hours upon hours of stakeouts which had almost driven him mad.

Robards was studying him closely. “Are you confirming Auror Weasley that you were caught breaking into the office after hours attempting to forge a personal statement from Mr. Longbottom discrediting what had been witnessed prior to his capture?”

After hours? Bloody hell, how late was it now?

“Well, you caught me didn’t you?” Ron found himself saying, coaxed on by the voice.

This was starting to feel like a bad dream like he was merely a puppet for a voice that wasn’t his own. He had to wake up, find Harry and Hermione. They would know what to do.

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked suddenly, tricking the voice before it could instruct him away from this important inquiry.

Robards’ eyes narrowed at him. The floating sensation rushed over him in a wave again, stronger now.

“I’ve been informed you ended your romantic relationship with Miss Granger,” Robards said in the same even tone.

Ron felt physical pain at hearing those words. End things with Hermione? Ron was convinced more than ever this had to be a dream. There was no way he would have ended things with Hermione, or let her end them without a good fight. Sure, they disagreed more than most, but that was half the fun of it. He’d never been afraid to speak his mind with her, even when it got him in trouble.

“Back to the point Weasley,” Robards was saying and the warm sensation flooded him again. “According to our records, you have been in correspondence with Avery’s cousins.”

Ron wanted to shout out of course, he hadn’t been in correspondence with anyone. Unless they were related, which he was pretty sure they weren’t, but he could never be quite certain. The voice willed him silent.

“Would you care to explain the pouch of gallons we found stashed in your desk, money which has no record of being withdrawn from your account at Gringotts?”

Bag of gallons? This was getting odder by the second. Where would he have gotten a pouch of gallons? Hermione handled almost all their finances and with them stashing away as much as they could for a proper house, he could hardly be carrying around a whole pocket full of money.

“You seem to have crafted quite a story for yourself, sir.” Ron found the words escaping him.

The frown on Robards’ face seemed permeant now. With a small noise of displeasure, he abandoned the pretext of a monotone interrogation and raised his voice. “ _Auror_ Weasley. I hope you understand the position you’re in right now. You were caught in the middle of the night in the office attempting to make unauthorized changes to a file which would benefit a man whose family you’ve been in contact with. On top of all of this, you have an unexplained amount of gold sitting at your desk along with a traveling bag containing your belongings.”

Every word seemed more ridiculous than the rest.

“Like I said,” Ron said in a low voice, fighting now to burst out again. “Quite a story, _sir._ ”

Something was very wrong. Ron strained against the gentle voice in his ear, telling him what to say, what to do. He couldn’t think straight long enough to identify what was happening to him. Robards had to know, had to recognize that this wasn’t him. There was no way he’d accept a bribe, leave the country. Nothing was worth that, to give up his life here, to give up Hermione and Harry and his family.

Robards was getting to his feet now, his look of displeasure stronger than ever.

Ron had to warn him, had to defend himself somehow. He didn’t think his mother could take the shame of thinking he’d betrayed everything he’d fought for. What would Harry think?

“Sir!” Ron shouted, throwing off the curse for a moment as he thought of his best friend and his own voice burst out of him. “Something’s wrong!”

Robards paused, his eyes darting over to Ron’s and holding them. Ron could feel himself panting with the effort of trying to stave off the curse, trying to maintain a moment of sanity.

“I know,” Robards replied simply, a somber look of pity etched into his face.

There was a blissful peace as the warm sensation descended over him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the chapter that started it all. 
> 
> Had you guessed it?


	6. Not so Happy Holidays

“Excuse me,” whispered a familiar voice. “Harry?” 

Harry looked up and was startled to find Arthur Weasley hovering in the entrance to his cubical. It had been months since Harry had last seen him aside from far away glimpses, scurrying away and avoiding eye contact.

He wore a sheepish smile and asked quietly. “Do you have a moment?”

“Please,” Harry said when he recovered from his shock, gesturing to the empty desk where Ron used to sit.

Mr. Weasley looked hesitantly at the chair and then glanced over his shoulder and then, in an even lower tone, “Would you mind if we spoke somewhere else?”

Harry nodded, standing up at once and followed Mr. Weasley at a near jog through the winding corridors of the department and back towards the desks of Muggle Relations. Harry had been to Mr. Weasley’s office a handful of times since joining the ministry. Mr. Weasley had returned to the Muggle Relations department after the war and had been issued a larger office. His desk was still littered with muggle trinkets and bulletin board lined with pictures of his grandchildren. With a pang, Harry found a picture of Dominque waddling towards the camera. The last time Harry had seen her she was scarcely able to stand.

He shut the door behind Harry but didn’t move to sit and Harry stood facing him.

“How are you?” Harry asked hesitantly when Mr. Weasley seem incapable of speech.

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” Mr. Weasley cut him off.

“Sorry?”

“Ron,” Mr. Weasley said in the same hushed tone he’d used when summoning Harry. “I know you’re not allowed to talk about anything, only it’s been weeks since his last letter and, we expected to hear something over the holidays-”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, stunned. “What letters?”

“He’s been sending us letters, every couple of weeks,” his face suddenly was blank. “Should I not have said anything? Is he not supposed to be?”

“He’s been sending letters all this time?” Harry repeated. “Why hadn’t you said anything?”

“I know the three of you have had a falling out,” Mr. Weasley said. “Even so, I expect you’ve been keeping tabs on him, working in the department and all.”

It took him a long pause to understand Mr. Weasley’s implication and was stunned by it.

“Is that what everyone thinks?” Harry asked, a strange sense of relief coming with the thought. “That he’s on an Auror mission?”

“Yes,” Mr. Weasley nodded, his look of concern growing. “That’s what his initial letter said, that after he and Hermione separated he was going to take some time for himself. We could only presume that it meant that he went on some mission for the Aurors.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to say he was going undercover,” Harry said as he processed the rest of what Mr. Weasley had said.

“Well no,” Mr. Weasley confirmed. “And he didn’t say that-“

“Wait,” Harry interrupted as the rest of his statement hit him. “You actually believe that he and Hermione have separated?”

“I’m not trying to accuse you or Hermione of anything,” he said in the careful, diplomatic voice Harry associated with him disagreeing with Mrs. Weasley while they had company. “I just want to know that my son is alright.”

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry said quietly, trying to control his emotions. “I have not heard from Ron for months. Not even a letter. This isn’t an Auror thing, he came home one day and told Hermione he didn’t want to be with her anymore.”

“Well,” he mumbled. “Like I said, I’m not trying to accuse you of-“

“Nothing happened between Hermione and me,” Harry said, frustration creeping into his voice. He forgot for a moment what had transpired between then as he said earnestly, “Ron and Hermione are my best friends, I would give anything to see them happy.”

He couldn’t tell whether Mr. Weasley believed him or not, but he could tell that the conversation was over.

“If you could just let Hermione and me see those letters,” Harry pleaded, desperate now. “Then we could go to Robards and-“

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Weasley mumbled, pulling open the office door and no longer meeting Harry’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”

Harry knew he should try to say something more but found himself suddenly with nothing to say. He allowed himself to be ushered out of the office, wincing as the door snapped shut behind him.

Harry found himself wanting to scream out of frustration. Robards was refusing to investigate. The Weasleys were happy to remain blissfully ignorant, satisfied with short letters as if Ron would have actually left his entire life behind. He felt like a child all over again, a first year with all of the pieces and the adults refusing to listen to them. Bitterly he glared at the door and from the other side of the glass spied Mr. Weasley hastily peeking through the blinds at him, looking away as his eyes met Harry’s.

It took everything in Harry to convince himself to return to his post and not flee to the safety and comfort of Ron and Hermione’s flat. Though it was barely noon Harry felt drained, empty. Before he could talk himself out of abandoning his job for the day, Robards emerged suddenly from around the corner.

“Potter,” he said shortly, stepping confidently from deeper within the Muggle Relations Department and Harry wondered for a wild moment whether or not he’d been spying on Harry’s conversation with Mr. Weasley. “Follow me to my office.”

Harry was left with no choice than to follow his boss as his cloak disappeared around the corner and into the Head Auror's office.

“Sir?” Harry asked, wondering whether he was going to have to explain the conversation he’d been having with the man he’d once considered a father.

“I see you’ve put in a request to be put on the schedule for Christmas,” Robards said, diverting Harry’s thoughts entirely. “I’m sure you understand why I am not able to honor it.”

“I don’t know why you bother to keep me on if you don’t trust me to do my job,” Harry said heatedly, all thoughts of his previous conversation suddenly vanished.

“I trust you to do your job Auror Potter,” Robards said in a bored voice, not nothing to look up from the scroll he was scribbling on. “If I didn’t then you would no longer be employed with my department.”

“Then why haven’t I been assigned a partner?” Harry snapped.

“It is standard procedure that when an Auror unexpectedly leaves their post that their partner is kept out of the field,” he said in a dry voice, “Until it can be certain there was no corruption.”

There was a moment’s hesitation and Harry’s heart began to race. After all these months had he finally stumbled onto something? “Are you saying that you believe Ron’s disappearance is suspect?”

Robards’ quill had stopped moving and for the briefest of moments, Harry swore he saw concern flicker over his face. But when Robards looked up the expression was gone.

“Auror Potter,” Robards’ said slowly as if he was carefully considering his words. “Have you considered that the reason you haven’t been reassigned is that no one wants to work with you?”

Harry’s heart plummeted. Had it just been his own longing that had imagined the look on Robard's face? “But you just said that Ron-“

“I said nothing of the sort and stand firm in my position that Mr. Weasley’s disappearance does not warrant any further investigation,” Robards said, sounding like himself again. “I was simply attempting to spare your feelings, Auror Potter. I can be more direct if you’d like about your co-workers' feelings on the subject.”

“If you’d only try and-“

“Do you think it’s beneficial for me to have an Auror on my payroll who is unable to do their job?” Robards asked coldly, “I would much rather you be doing the job I trained you for but I am unable to force you upon someone who has no trust in you.”

Harry found himself at a loss for words.

“A few attempts to get in your co-workers' good graces would not go amiss, Auror,” Robards said, returning to his parchment.

Getting back into his co-workers' good graces had indeed been the reason for him volunteering for duty over the holiday but Harry didn’t quite trust himself to say this. For the second time that hour, he allowed himself to be dismissed from the office. This time there was no debate about whether or not it would be prudent for him to return to his desk. 

 

“How’d it go with Robards?” Hermione asked when she arrived home, burdened with an overstuffed bag that made her look imbalanced. "Did you talk to him about the holiday?" 

“He denied my request,” Harry said shortly, watching as she let the bag slip from her shoulder where it landed with a loud thud. “It means I have Christmas off.”

“Mmh,” Hermione said noncommittally, sending her bag to the kitchen table with the flick of her wand before joining him.

They’d avoided making plans for the holiday with the hopes that work would be an easy excuse to not celebrate the holiday neither of their hearts were into. Harry hadn’t spent a Christmas without Ron since he was eleven. It felt wrong to even consider making any plans without him.

“We could go somewhere,” Harry went on, watching the sad look dawn over her face. “You have the week off, don’t you? There’d be time to visit your parents.”

Hermione froze in the act of taking off her shoes and stared at him.

“No, I haven’t told them about what’s been happening.” She paused, a distant look on her face. “I don’t think I could face them quite yet. Besides, we usually spend Christmas at the Burrow and visit them for the New Year.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said at once, wondering why he’d brought it up at all. “I didn’t-“

“I know,” Hermione said, looking far away in thought. There was an uncomfortable silence as Harry studied her, waiting. “Maybe I should go and see them, break the news.”

“For all we know—“

“I thought we’d agreed to stop looking,” Hermione unexpectedly snapped at him and Harry couldn’t think of a proper response.

For a moment he considered telling her about the conversation he’d had with Mr. Weasley and the even stranger comments made by Robards but ultimately decided against it. She was right. They had agreed to stop searching for the person that so obviously did not want to be found.

They told themselves it had nothing to do with the shift in their own relationship but Harry knew better. What had started as a momentary lapse in judgment, a weakness between the two of them had turned into a consistent pattern, waking up beside one another, weekends spent ordering in and cuddling by the fire.

Harry knew it was false. He knew if anything changed that it would be over between them as if it hadn’t happened. For all Hermione cared for him, and Harry knew she did a great deal, it was obvious to him she did not return the intensity of his feelings. Had the Weasleys still been talking to them, had Robards taken them more seriously, had Ginny not kicked him out of his own flat, Hermione would not have never made a move on him. For all she talked about them being happy with one another Harry knew if it came down to it, if there was even the possibility of Ron coming back, then she would never choose him.

“What about the holiday then?” Harry went on, realizing Hermione was waiting for a response. “We should do some shopping, at any rate, get some food.”

“You’re right,” Hermione agreed, already summoning a quill and parchment for a list. “You haven’t gotten me anything, have you? Because I haven’t had the time to-“

“No,” Harry told her truthfully. “We can skip the presents this year.”

 

Harry awoke on Christmas morning half expecting to be in the familiar camp bed he’d spent his breaks in, the smell on Molly’s cooking drifting through the house, a pile of presents at the foot of his bed.

Instead, it was to a pale light coming from the hallway, the bed cold beside him. It felt as though a dementor had passed through the flat. The chill sucking all of the happiness out of him as Harry rose and joined Hermione on the couch to stare blankly into the fire. More than ever on the holiday he was aware of the Ron sized space between them. Nostalgia washed over him as he thought of all the holidays before he’d spent with Ron, every important holiday since he’d been eleven.

When he tried to say something about this overwhelming realization, Hermione she looked at him sadly and said, “That’s not true, he wasn’t with us in the tent either.”

In many ways, it felt like the Christmas they’d spent in the tent, Harry recovering from the attack at Godric’s Hollow and Hermione miserably reading. They were just as careful around each other, tiptoeing only into careful pleasantries about wanting more tea or adding a log to the fire. Neither of them were stupid enough to wish the other a happy Christmas. They didn’t need to say anything to one another to know that their thoughts were solely on Ron, the gaping hole that still divided them. Several times the fire would pop and they would both look up excitedly only for the room to be as just as empty and just as cold.

Ron wasn’t coming. He wouldn’t rescue Harry out of this situation like he had out of the lake all those years ago. And even though Harry knew Ron coming back would destroy his relationship with Hermione, ruin everything that had happened between them and he would no longer be allowed to continue with his romantic feelings towards her, he still would trade anything to have Ron back with them.

Whenever he left the room he could hear her softly calling Ron’s name, begging him home and every pop and creak caused them both to look up, hoping against all hope that their Christmas wish had come true.

 

“You look nice,” Harry said approvingly as Hermione exited the bedroom, dressed in unfamiliar black dress robes that looked pristine. “Are those new?”

“These?” Hermione frowned as she looked down. “No, these are from Kingsley’s confirmation.”

It was a shock seeing her fit back into those clothes. Vividly he remembered the expression on McGonagall’s face when they’d suggested wearing the old dress robes they’d worn in school.

“Like it or not you three are heroes,” McGonagall said disapprovingly when they’d insisted that it didn’t matter what they wore. “You have earned the right to dress as such.”

She had summoned them a seamstress almost immediately and ordered sets of far too expensive robes which had been tailored to them. They were the first clothes that Harry had worn in months that had fit properly and he remembered thinking how wasted and thin they’d looked in the pictures. They’d almost immediately grown out of the narrow clothing, regaining a proper amount of weight due to Mrs. Weasley’s near-obsessive nurturing.

“They’re the only things that fit,” Hermione said in explanation as Harry rose, walking over and taking her in.

Though he’d seen her bare flesh dozens of times now it was a shock to realize how thin she’d gotten. Memories of how broken she’d been after the final battle came rushing to him, parallel with the Hermione he’d witnessed the past few months. Helplessly he went to her and before she could say anything wrapped his arms around her forcefully, holding onto her as tight as he could. She let out a little surprised noise, but not of disgust, and hugged him back.

Hostility coursed through his veins. Suddenly, he didn’t want Ron back. Not after this. He understood what Hermione had been feeling after their first night together, there was no explanation, no words Ron could say to possibly excuse what he had caused. Hermione was wasting away before his eyes and it was all his fault.

“Harry?” Hermione asked and he released his grip, frightened he was holding her too tight.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing his grip. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she assured him, tugging him tightly back against her and laying her head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

They stood there for a minute, swaying on the spot. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked him in the same quiet tone.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Everything is fine.”

He knew she was reading his thoughts as she whispered to him. “I’m alright Harry, I promise.”

“No,” he told her, “You’re not. But I’ll be here until you are again.”

She tilted up her head to look at him and then pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I know Harry,” she assured him. “No matter what, we’ll always have each other.”

“I can go with you if you’d like,” Harry told her, his arms still around her.

He’d accompanied both her and Ron to the holiday party hosted by the Department of Magical Law every year since Hermione had taken her position. Normally he’d have been an honored guest but it seemed this scandal had disgraced his reputation enough to no longer warrant an invitation.

“Honestly, it’s not worth it,” Hermione said, pulling away from him at last and straightening her skirt. “I won’t stay there long but if you’re with me I daresay we’ll be there all night.”

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, sitting back down upon the couch and picking up his book.

The moment she’d gone, however, Harry found himself returning to the pulsing anger he’d felt when he’d realized that he no longer wanted Ron back in their lives. The guilt he’d felt every time he’d touched her in more than a strictly platonic manner had been dissolving and now, Harry realized, that the emotion that had replaced it had been bitterness.

Here he was, poised to finally get a piece of the relationship he’d wanted since he was fourteen and still Ron was standing in his way. As long as Hermione was still left with questions, as long as he was left with questions, they would never really be happy together. There would always be the lingering doubt of having done something to drive Ron away.

In anger, he pulled his wand and struggled to put into words the thoughts bouncing around in his brain. It had been a long time since he’d sent his last patronus. Since Ron’s disappearance and the subsequent estrangement from the family he’d loved so dearly, Harry had struggled to produce one at all. He’d not enough happy thoughts to conjure the spell. But now, armed with the memory of Hermione’s lips on his it was easy.

“Ron,” said Harry through clenched teeth. “After everything we’ve been together, after everything we’ve done I can’t believe this is how you ended things.Hermione deserves better than you running off like a coward. She deserves a proper explanation for what you’ve put her through these past few months. Fuck, she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep, she is going to work herself to death and that is entirely your fault.

"Tonight she is wearing those same robes that we wore to Kinglsey’s confirmation hearing. We haven’t fit in those since we ate a proper meal after, but she is that thin again because of you. You have done to her the same thing living in a tent for months on the run from Death Eaters did to her. What the nightmares from Bellatrix Lestrange did to her. And Ron she is only going to get worse until she understands why you fell out of love with her.

"I don’t know where you’ve run off to but when I am going to find you and when I do I am going to kick your ass. So if I were you I would come home and tell her the truth because we’re beginning to wonder whether you ever loved her at all.”

 


	7. The Unexpected Floo

An unfamiliar noise startled Harry to alertness. Automatically, his hand grasped for his wand as he strained to identify the noise that had awoken him. The flat was silent save for the pounding in his ears and just as he was convinced it was his own paranoia tricking him, his adrenaline spiked once more.

“Auror Potter,” called a familiar, authoritative voice.

Harry scrambled towards the bedroom door, wondering for a moment whether or not it would be wise to rouse Hermione who hadn’t so much as stirred. Peeking into the living room he saw the flames in the fireplace had turned a bright green and as he squinted could just make out the outline of a man’s face floating in the flames.

“Auror Potter,” the voice repeated for a third time, confirming Harry’s suspicion that it was indeed his boss calling his name.

Summoning his glasses from the nightstand he exited the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him so Hermione couldn’t be seen. As he walked towards the fireplace Harry realized the flaw in their ruse to maintain secrecy about their sleeping arrangements hadn’t accounted for the only other person authorized to enter through the wards unannounced, the Head of the Auror department. Silently cursing himself for this lapse, Harry wondered if Robards knew the room he’d just exited was Ron and Hermione’s bedroom.

“Sir?” Harry asked, dropping to his knees before the fireplace.

His initial rush of adrenaline had faded and been replaced by overwhelming dread. There was no good reason for his boss to be calling at this hour. Particularly when Harry was still on desk duty and hadn’t been called out into the field for months.

“I need for you and Miss. Granger to come to the hospital at once,” Robards said swiftly. “Fourth floor, ward six.”

“What?” Harry asked “Who—“

“Fourth floor, ward six,” Robards repeated and with a small pop was gone.

It took a moment for Harry’s eyes to adjust to the January moonlight but he wasted no further time in waking Hermione. They dressed hurriedly and not ten minutes later were hurtling through the corridors of the still and silent hospital. He glanced at his watch as he pulled shut the door to the staircase behind him. It wasn’t even half past three.

Dread surged in him again as he spotted Robards at the end of the hallway, stony-faced as he watched them approach. Before Harry could say more than “Sir?” he was guiding them through another, smaller door before stopping in front of the entrance to a private room. Harry’s heart was beating faster than ever and he knew whatever was on the other side of the door would not be good news.

“I owe you both an apology,” Robards said, throwing Harry off at once. “I have not been completely straightforward with you regarding Auror Weasley’s disappearance.”

Harry blinked. Finally, someone was taking them seriously. He felt a momentary rush of gratitude before reality came crashing over him. Ron had disappeared months ago and they had only just now been summoned to the hospital in the middle of the night.

“Sir,” Hermione said breathlessly and Harry put his arm around her without thinking.

“The Friday before the both of you accosted me in my office, Auror Weasley was found breaking into the ministry and was discovered trying to tamper with evidence on a case which was up for review.” Robards continued in his calm, toneless voice,“Auror Weasley was apprehended in the middle of his act and evidence pointed to him having contact with the wizard in question’s family along with a rather large amount of gold.”

Harry heard Hermione gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. Harry could barely comprehend this and at once opened his mouth to defend Ron against these allegations, but was stopped with a raised hand.

“It was immediately identified that Auror Weasley had not been acting of his own volition,” Robards continued quickly. “Nevertheless we were unable to identify the person responsible for the crime committed against Auror Weasley and there was he had to be detained until the spell was broken.”

“Spell?” Hermione whispered. “He wasn’t—wasn’t Imperiused?”

Robards gave a stiff nod in her direction. Harry’s stomach plummeted. He’d been slowly convincing himself that Ron had run off on them when in reality he’d been in grave danger.

“While we have not been able to determine who targeted Auror Weasley he managed to break the spell a fortnight ago. We’ve been keeping him under observation but at this time we have no reason to suspect continued magical involvement.” Robards finished neatly. “I’m sorry to have woken you both, but he’s been demanding to see you both and refused to be denied any longer.”

Hermione wasn’t taking in a word Robards was saying, her eyes trained on the door and filled with tears. Robards opened his mouth to continue his speech but, recognizing he’d lost his audience, closed his mouth and turned to open the door. Instantly Hermione became a flash of brown hair and Harry hurried to catch up with her, nearly knocking them both over just steps inside the door. She was frozen, staring at the only occupant of the room who was sitting up in bed, an expression of equal shock on his face.

Ron, frozen in the act of saying something, only had eyes for Hermione who still hadn’t moved. He looked worse for the wear, his skin pale and he seemed to have lost a significant amount of weight since his disappearance. It reminded Harry horribly of how he’d looked the summer after the battle.

“Hermione?” Ron was the first to recover, gasping out her name.

For one wild moment, Harry was certain Hermione was going to curse him, wearing the same expression she had in the tent when it had been Harry who’d led Ron back to them. But in the next moment, she’d thrown herself halfway across the room into his arms, her hands around his neck as he lifted her from the floor and buried his face into her hair.

“I’ll be back shortly to answer any questions you might have,” Robards said from the doorway and a moment too late Harry thought that perhaps he should have joined his boss, given Ron and Hermione a moment alone.

The moment the door was shut, Hermione began to wail against Ron’s chest, disjointed words about how much she had missed him.

“It’s alright,” Ron said in a chocked voice, a look of intense relief on his face as he raised his head to look at her. “It’s alright sweetheart, I’m right here.”

Ron’s words cut through Harry’s insides like a knife. Harry's gut was not just twisting, but shredding it’s self up inside him with guilt. How had he ever been able to justify what he had done with Hermione? It was obvious, just being in the room with them both how much they cared for one another. There was no mistaking the look of love on Ron’s face as he gently stroked Hermione’s hair and murmured comforting words to her. And he was supposed to be their best friend. After everything they’d done for him, how could he have repaid Ron like this?

For perhaps a quarter of an hour Hermione sobbed uncontrollably, emerging for seconds at a time to gaze up at Ron’s face only to dissolve into tears again. Harry stood at the furthest point from them, looking down at his shoes and leaning against the wall. Finally, Ron was able to calm her down and after several minutes of hiccuping, she emerged.

“You’re alright?” she asked for the dozenth time, wiping her cheeks with her soaked sleeves.

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Ron said earnestly. “I swear. Robards wouldn’t have let you come if everything wasn’t alright with me.”

Hermione gave a watery smile but managed to keep herself from crying.

“What about you two?” he asked, looking over at Harry for the first time properly. “Everything been okay?”

“No,” Hermione wailed before Harry could answer. “It’s been miserable without you.”

Ron actually smiled at them and Hermione swatted at him.

“To be fair it hasn’t exactly been rosy on my end either,” Ron said, looking somber at once.

“Do you know what happened?” Harry asked of him, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

“I know as much as Robards filled me in on. He caught me on the first night trying to alter some file and interrogated me. He figured it out straight away and when he did I started making threats, nearly cursed him to get away.” Ron paused for a moment, a look of horror on his face at the notion. “Anyway, he brought me here after that and I’ve been stuck in this room ever since.”

“That’s not legal,” Hermione said at once, sounding incredibly reminiscent of herself at school when she’d lecture them about breaking rules.

Harry caught Ron’s eye and they grinned at one another.

“It was for my own safety sweetheart,” Ron said soothingly. “Who knows what I could have done to Harry?” he paused and added in a lower voice, “or to you?”

Hermione tightened her grip on him and sniffled.

“Any idea who’s done this?” Harry asked.

“No idea,” Ron shook his head, “Robards reckons it was someone trying to destroy my reputation, but we aren’t exactly the most popular people in the wizarding world so your guess is as good as mine. All I remember is getting ready to leave the ministry on a Friday and the next thing I know I’m waking up here. There’s bits and piece from while I was under, but I hardly remember the staff here.”

“And then it just broke?”

“Two weeks ago,” Ron nodded, “They’ve no idea why, unless something happened to the castor. Robards wants to keep me here until we figure it out but I kept demanding to see you two.”

Harry had a pretty good idea as to why and from the way Ron was avoiding his eyes Harry was certain he did too. Hermione made a small noise, fussing with him. Ron gave all his attention to her, reaching up to sweep the tear matted hair from her cheek.

“There’s a loo if you want to wash your face,” Ron told her kindly.

“I probably look like a mess,” Hermione said, looking reluctant as she disentangled herself and straightened his blankets.

“Glad to know you missed me,” Ron teased, catching her hand and pulling her back for a kiss.

Harry looked away until the second door beside him opened and shut, leaving him alone with Ron.

“She looks tired,” Ron said, continuing to stare at the door she’d gone through.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “You’ve been gone for six months mate.”

“But you’ve been looking after her, yeah?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded at once, not trusting the words out of his mouth to explain how exactly he’d been taking care of his best friend’s wife. When he closed his eye he could still feel her skin under his hand, feel his breath on his cheek and hear the sounds she made when they were alone. Private sounds Harry should have never been privileged to.

“Harry?” Ron asked, and Harry became aware Ron had been talking for some time to no audience.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, shaking his head to try and clear the impure thoughts from it.

“How’s Ginny?” Ron repeated.

“Er—“ Harry muttered, “We broke up.”

“Ah,” Ron answered, sounding surprised but not upset by this information. “When did it happen?”

“Right after you left,” Harry answered, “We’d been on the rocks for some time, she said she was tired of fighting for my attention against the stability of the wizarding world,” Ron scoffed, “And with you and Hermione.”

They were quiet for a moment and Harry looked up to find Ron fussing with a strand on his shirt, not meeting his eyes. “After you disappeared, Ginny thought I was spending too much time with Hermione.”

“Well that’s rubbish,” Ron said at once, looking up, “Wasn’t she concerned about me?”

He hesitated, “Well—“

Thankfully Harry was saved as the door to the private bathroom swung open and Ron was completely distracted by Hermione once more. She emerged, fresh-faced and went straight back to Ron’s waiting arms, joining him now on the bed and curling up beside him. Harry watched as Ron gave a happy sigh as she settled against his chest and Hermione’s lips curved into a smile. It was painful to watch them and Harry looked away, fiddling with his wand.

“Come sit,” Ron said and Harry looked up to find Ron with a critical look on his face. “You don’t look comfortable.”

“I’m alright,” Harry said.

Harry didn’t think he deserved to be comfortable, not now, after what he’d done. Ron was frowning at him and Hermione had peeked up, looking Harry fully in the face for the first time since they’d entered the room. Her eyes were alight with concern and he gave in, moving to sit at the end of the bed furthest away from Hermione.

“What’s this about Ginny then?” Ron asked of them both.

“She thought you’d left me,” Hermione said in a quiet voice. “Everyone did.”

Ron’s grip around her tightened. “Surely not everyone…”

He trailed off at the look on Harry’s face. “Bloody hell.”

“Er—“ Harry said, “Ginny was rather upset when she ended things and spoke to a couple of reporters, the press hasn’t exactly been kind to us.”

“Even if they thought we’d split for some reason, why wasn’t anyone looking for me?” Ron continued, visibly upset. “My mum and dad—“

“Your parents got letters which apparently you wrote asking for you to give them some space, they’d thought you’d taken a mission somewhere, undercover,” Harry told him. “And with Ginny and I breaking up so soon after everyone just presumed that the three of us had a fight. And that Hermione and I, well…”

“Ah,” Ron said, realization dawning over his face.

Harry could feel his face about to get hot and he stood up, moving to look out the window. Behind him, he could hear Hermione making soft noises and in the reflection, he could see them kissing. It made his insides squirm in a way it never had before and he’d certainly been witness to them kissing plenty of times.

He moved to the door in an attempt to slip out and give them their privacy but found it locked.

“It won’t open. Robards has it charmed,” Ron said from behind him and Harry turned as Hermione made a noise of surprise, “Only can get out in case of an emergency.” Ron said to her and her look cleared.

Harry pulled his wand and attempted to spell it open but the handle remained stubbornly in place.

“For someone who hasn’t seen me in months you’re trying to get away awfully fast,” Ron quipped, concern showing on his face. “I’d almost say you didn’t want to see me.”

“Thought you two might want a moment alone,” Harry answered calmly, conjuring himself a rather stiff looking chair and sitting down in the furthest point of the room.

Ron frowned at him again but didn’t comment, turning his attention back to Hermione. “Tell me what’s been going on, I’ve been stuck in here with nothing.”

It was alarming how little they knew about the wizarding world at large. In the months since Ron had disappeared, they’d isolated themselves almost completely due to the rumors and accusations about them. While Ron and Hermione seemed content to simply lie there together Harry found it difficult to look at them and found himself wanting to be almost anywhere else. It was a relief therefore when Robards arrived in fresh clothes but just as exhausted.

“I’ve given you all the time I can,” Robards said to Ron as Hermione clung tighter to him. “I’d like to get them out here before there’s a chance they’ll be seen.”

Harry glanced down at his watch and realized with a start it was half past six. In an hour and a half, he’d be due at his desk for another day of mindless paperwork.

“I know the both of you understand the risks of coming here tonight and that no one must know what you saw in this room,” Robards said in his commanding voice. “No one, not even in the department and especially not either of your families.”

Together Harry and Hermione nodded.

“Sir,” Hermione said in a small voice and Harry could tell she was trying not to cry. “When can we come back?”

“Tonight we’ll have a meeting with the healer to discuss Auror Weasley’s condition,” Robards told her. “I’ll let Auror Potter know the time later today.”

Hermione nodded, gripping at Ron’s hand. She turned to him, watery-eyed again as she kissed him and disentangled herself slowly.

“Love you,” Ron told her in a low voice that barely carried to Harry’s ears.

When she was finally able to let go of him she went to Harry’s side automatically and without thinking he went to throw his arm around her. She ducked out of it and Harry looked at Ron in alarm to find he hadn’t noticed.

“See ya,” Harry said to Ron with a reciprocated nod.


	8. Outdated Policies and Procedures Only Provide for Laywers

 

Despite his sleep deprivation, Harry felt more alert than he had in ages as he returned to the office the next morning. Robards, who’d managed to arrive before him, waved Harry into his office at once, motioning for him to shut the door behind him. 

“Healer Bainbridge is available to speak with you both tonight,” Robards said without looking up from his work. “Would you be able to find the room again?”

Harry nodded, “Hermione’ll be able to, her memory is better than mine.”

“Shame we weren’t able to convince her to join the office,” Robards said dryly, waving his wand over the parchment to dry the ink. “Very well, I’ll meet you both there tonight at midnight.”

Harry hesitated. “Sir? Why wasn’t I informed about Ron?”

For the first time since Ron’s disappearance, Robards looked human, ashamed and unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “I didn’t take you into my confidence because I was afraid for your safety. Auror Weasley’s response to the curse was rather violent, brutal. Confining him in that room was the only way to ensure not only his safety but the safety of everyone else. I’d planned on informing you once we were able to make progress, but his condition only worsened.”

This did nothing to satisfy Harry’s anger. “I could have helped, Ron is my best mate and-“

“And that is exactly why I didn’t inform you,” Robards interrupted, “We’ve still no idea who placed the curse on Auror Weasley and I’m sure you can imagine the castor’s intention. Aside from his relationship with you, you are well aware of how many opposed his marriage. I’m sure you can recall how serious the threats were when he and Miss. Granger announced their engagement.”

Harry could remember all too well the work he’d done in the months surrounding Ron and Hermione’s wedding. Not a day during that time passed without them receiving at best a cursed note or a significant threat. Had they not already been living under the most intense protective enchantments they would have had to go into hiding until it had blown over.

“Sir, I-“

A knock at the door interrupted them and Harry turned to find Jackson, another Auror just older than Harry himself peaking his head in. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not looking at Harry. “But this is urgent.”

“The Bulgarians?” Robards asked, alert at once, “Very well, shut the door.”

Harry made to stand but Gawain shook his head. “Potter, I’d rather like your opinion on this, please stay.”

Whether time had softened his opinions towards Harry or that Robards’ endorsement of Harry was enough, Jackson seemed to have no objections as he shut the door behind him and launched into his report, pushing all lingering arguments and anger from Harry’s mind.

 

 

It was Hermione who, upon his return home, reminded Harry of his frustrations and anger towards his boss. She grilled him with questions the moment he came through the grate about what he’d learned and expressed her disappointment that he’d given in so easily.

“How can you be alright with that explanation?” she snapped. “He’s been keeping Ron from us for months.”

“I know,” Harry sighed.

“Then how could you possibly be alright with-“

“I didn’t say I was alright with it Hermione,” Harry said wearily, rubbing his eyes. “But he gave me a new assignment and I have to do my job don’t I?”

“Oh, so Robards bribes you with a job and he’s redeemed himself?” Hermione asked. “What about everything we’ve been through these past few months?”

“I’m not the enemy here Hermione,” said Harry. “I’m the one who’s been by your side, remember?”

“I know that,” she said crossly. “But I can’t understand how you can possibly forget what Robards did. If it hadn’t been for him then we wouldn’t’ve-“

She broke off in confusion but Harry knew the end to that sentence. The gnawing feeling of discomfort was suddenly overwhelming and he found it hard to swallow.

“Hermione, we should talk about-“

“I’m going to shower,” Hermione said abruptly, standing up and turning from him.

“Hermione, wait!” Harry cried, racing her to the hallway and blocking her from darting off. “We have to talk about this.”

She shook her head rapidly, refusing to look at him. “There’s nothing to talk about Harry.”

“What do you mean there’s nothing to talk about?” he asked, feeling abandoned and hurt. “We have to tell him, Hermione, before he finds out.”

“We can’t,” Hermione moaned, shaking her head again. “Harry, he won’t find out. I haven’t told anyone and neither have you. If he finds out it’ll change everything.”

“There’s been rumors Hermione!” Harry said. “He’s bound to hear them if he hasn’t already.”

“They’re just rumors,” she insisted.

“But they aren’t!” he said, voice rising. “They weren’t just rumors!”

Again Hermione shook her head, glancing up and Harry found tears in her eyes.

“You’re just going to lie to him?” Harry questioned.

“Think of how he’ll react if we tell him the truth,” Hermione said. “Think of how much it’ll hurt him. I think it’s better for us to pretend it hadn’t happened and he’ll never be the wiser.”

Harry could feel his teeth grinding together. “So, what was I then? Just someone to comfort you?”

“Harry,” Hermione moaned, grabbing his sleeve as he made to push past her. “Harry you know how much you mean to me.”

“Not enough apparently,” he said in a bitter tone, ripping away his arm from her grasp.

He regretted this almost at once, Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears. This wasn’t any more fair to her than to himself.

“Please don’t do this to me,” she cried, tears now racing down her cheeks. “Harry, it’s Ron.”

Harry felt himself sigh and soften, allowing her to take his hand.

“He’s your best friend, he’s my husband and w-we,” her voice trembled and she used her sleeve to wipe her tears from her eyes. “I can’t even look at myself Harry, I hate myself for what we did.”

“Hermione,” he said softly, putting his arm around her as another wave of guilt washed over him.

“I don’t know what to do here Harry,” Hermione whimpered. “I can’t lose him and I can’t lose you.”

It took all his strength but he managed to whisper, “You’re not going to lose me, Hermione.” She made a noise of disbelief and he tightened his grip, pained at the thought of losing either of them. “I know this is difficult, but we have to tell him. The longer we wait the worse it’s going to be.”

 

 

The healer who met with them that evening was an older gentleman by the name of Bainbridge, one of the two healers dedicated to seeing the Auror’s and clearing them for duty.Patiently he sat through the dozens of questions Hermione had about Ron’s care, detailed analysis of the spells that had been attempted and the potions used.

“I know how frustrating this can be,” he’d said sympathetically with a warm, grandfatherly smile. “But there’s a reason the Imperius Curse is classified as Unforgivable Mrs. Weasley.”

“Hermione,” she corrected again, “Please.”

“Hermione,” he said kindly. “We’ve been unable to develop a treatment for the curse.”

“It doesn’t explain why we couldn’t be notified about the situation,” Hermione said shortly, directing her comment at Robards who refused to be intimidated.

“It is the procedure that once identified that Aurors be detained immediately until it can be certain that they are no longer under the influence,” Robards said coolly. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, Mrs. Weasley, the danger that an Imperuised person can cause.”

“All the more reason,” Hermione said, but Harry sensed her trepidation. “Who is more equipped than us to handle something like this?”

It was Ron who tensed, squeezing her hand. Hermione looked over at him and then back to Robards. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Ron sighed and nodded at his boss.

“Auror Weasley made several severe threats to both your and Auror Potter’s wellbeing,” Robards said softly, glancing between Hermione and Harry. “As I told Auror Potter this morning, Weasley was detained to ensure both your and his safety.”

“We should have been notified,” Hermione said again.

“Procedure dictates-“

“I don’t care about procedure,” Hermione snapped. “I had a right to know about the wellbeing of my husband-“ 

“Mrs. Weasley,” Robards said in the loudest voice yet. “The procedure has been developed for a reason. Had you been informed about Auror Weasley’s whereabouts, then you would have insisted on seeing him. For most of his treatment Auror, Weasley was in total isolation for fear he would hurt staff.”

Hermione glared at Robards but seemed to have nothing more to say as she gripped Ron’s hand tighter. He whispered something into her ear and she softened.

“How do we know the curse is really broken?” Harry asked to break the tense silence, looking automatically to Hermione for the answer.

There was a hesitation between the two older gentlemen in the room, glancing at one another.

“As Auror Weasley has been under observation for the past several months we feel as though we have a pretty good grasp on his patterns of behavior,” Bainbridge said confidently. “Given the sudden return to his baseline behavior prior to his being cursed, we have no reason to suspect continued enchantment.”

“Wouldn’t the person need to have continued involvement for the curse to work?” Harry asked, looking to Robards for the answer.

“Not necessarily,“ it was Hermione who answered. “Look at Thickneese, you said yourself you ran into him in the elevator alone when we broke into the ministry.”

“But for months?” Harry asked to no reply. “Why now?”

Ron glanced at Hermione before clearing his throat and saying just above a whisper. “That patronus you sent, I thought Hermione was in danger.”

Instantly Hermione whipped her head to stare at Harry, her eyes alight with concern. He’d not yet shared the hurtful words he’d uttered, trying to get in a dig at Ron in a moment where Harry had felt so vulnerable. Harry could feel his cheeks turning red and rather wished that the three of them could be alone to discuss this.

“Could we have a moment?” it was Hermione who managed words, Ron looking suspiciously between them.

Bainbridge and Robards nodded, standing and once and hurried from the room. It left the three of them sitting in silence, both of them trying to catch Harry’s eye.

“You tell it,” Harry muttered finally, his voice sounding strange.

After a tense few seconds, Ron broke into the story. It was somehow more painful coming from his mouth. The implication behind his words, telling him to stay away from them was stinging, just as Harry had meant it. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, whispering something to Ron which Harry could not hear.

Emotions swirled inside of Harry as he watched them and the secret felt ready to burst out of him.

For one wild moment, Harry wondered whether or not to let it out, that perhaps Ron would react badly and they’d be able to convince Robards and Bainbridge that the curse really hadn’t been broken and they’d detain him. He imagined for a moment what would happen if Ron never left the room. In time their friends and family would have to accept the truth that something had happened, Robards would have to announce his death in some manner and Harry and Hermione would be vindicated from their sin. Perhaps even accepted.

Reality came crashing down as Harry realized it was a convoluted fantasy to wish his best friend vanished. Even if it meant pushing down the feelings he’d allowed to blossom. Ron raised his head, and Harry looked away for him to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“I’m not upset mate,” Ron said to him, his voice still shaky. “If it hadn’t been for you…”

“Yeah,” Harry managed, his throat tight and was upset to see Hermione was still avoiding his eye. “Yeah, I know.”

He stared hard at Hermione who had her face still buried in Ron’s chest. A foreign feeling overtook him seeing them tangled with one another.

“I’m going to go,” Harry said decisively, turning at once to depart, unable to stand another moment alone with them.

“Harry-“

For the first time in since entering the hospital, Hermione called his name and he halted, hand hovering over the handle. He glanced back at her to find she’d let go of Ron finally and was walking towards him.

Before he could protest she’s wrapped her arms around him and he sunk involuntarily into her touch, gripping at her, fearful he’d never hold her again and his eyes drifted closed at her sent, so familiar and comforting.

“Thank-you,” Hermione whispered into his ear.

His throat felt tight and he opened his eyes he found Ron surveying them worriedly.

Hurriedly Harry loosened his grip on Hermione and nodded at Ron.

“I’m alright,” he told them. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

 

 

“They said what?” Ron demanded, disbelief on his face.

They’d just finished filling him in on what had happened in the months he’d been missing. As they described his family’s blasé reaction to his sudden disappearance Ron had gotten steadily angrier with each word they spoke.

“Between the letters, you’d sent and what Ginny was saying, they were all pretty willing to accept you’d run off,” Hermione said.

“Just wait until I have a word with them,” Ron said, malice in his voice. “I was bloody Imperiused and my own family hadn’t even noticed.”

“We noticed,” Hermione reminded him softly.

Ron looked down at her and a fond smile spread across his face. He tightened his arm around her and looked over at Harry.

“At least the both of you realized something was up,” Ron agreed. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without the both of you.”

“You have Robards to thank for that,” Harry said, the first words he’d spoken since entering the room. “Think about how much damage you could have caused if he hadn’t detained you.”

Ron looked over, his eyes narrowed for a moment. “Well that’s not my fault, was it? I had no control over what I was doing.”

“Of course it wouldn’t have been,” Hermione said quickly, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room. “We know that Ron.”

Ron gazed at Harry for a moment longer before dropping his eyes back down on Hermione. “Frightening isn’t it? To think about what I could have done?”

“Any leads on who’s done this?” Harry asked.

“Gawain thinks whoever it was had a personal grudge,” Ron told him. “Someone who wanted to ruin my life.”

“Maybe it was to get to me,” Harry said. He couldn’t help his bitter tone.

“Gawain doesn’t seem to think so,” Ron said with afrown. “If it had I could have easily just come over and killed you in your sleep, couldn’t I have?”

Ron had a point.

“It seems whoever it was, was trying to destroy your reputation,” Hermione agreed. “Ruin your life.”

“They did a good job of it too,” Ron said. “Ruined my marriage and almost took my career away in a night.”

“Your marriage isn’t ruined Ron,” Hermione told him softly.

“Almost ruined my marriage then,” Ron conceded with a fond smile. “Put my wife through hell for a few months.”

Hermione gave a tender smile and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. “All that matters is that you’re okay now, and you’ll be home in a few days.”

They’d met with Healer Bainbridge again and with Robards begrudging’s blessing had agreed on a plan of release for Ron. Harry sensed some hesitation in Ron’s eyes and wondered for a wild minute whether Ron had sensed the tension between Hermione and him.

“I don’t think I should come home yet,” Ron said hesitantly.

At once Hermione sat up, looking at him wildly. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you come home, Ron? Bainbridge said-”

“I know what he said.” Ron hesitated, “Look, we still don’t know who cast the spell in the first place not to mention what their plan was.”

Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, apparently too shocked to argue.

“What if it hasn’t really been broken?” Ron continued, “What if I hurt you, Hermione?”

“You wouldn’t,” Hermione said, but there was a hint of doubt in her tone. She looked to Harry pleadingly and he met her eyes for a moment. “Besides Harry’ll be there.”

“Not all the time,” Ron argued, a manic note in his voice. “What about at night Hermione?”

“Harry’ll be there,” Hermione said again soothingly. “He’ll sleep in our bed if it’ll bring you peace. Won’t you Harry?”

The very last thing Harry wanted to do was jump into bed with them both. But they were both looking at him hopefully and he knew there was no way he could say no.

“Won’t it be weird?” Harry asked of them, choosing to conveniently forget all the times before he’d shared their sleeping space with no thought of an implication.

“Nah,” Ron said, looking at him pleadingly. “Just like after the war.”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed finally, his throat rather dry.

 

Within the week Ron was released and even though he looked incredibly fragile the grin on his face was unmistakable. It made Harry feel even more guilty that he’d hoped Ron would continue to be detained as to postpone the moment their relationship was ruined forever.

Sharing a bed with them both was just as awkward as Harry could have imagined. He took as long as he could in the bathroom, trying to give them a moment alone and hoping perhaps that they might both have fallen asleep before he entered. To his dismay, they were both still fully awake, Ron nearly on top of Hermione when he entered.

He loudly cleared his throat and they separated, blushing.

“Listen, I’m just going to kip on the couch,” Harry said, gesturing with his thumb behind him.

“The couch is awful Harry,” Ron pleaded, “Besides, what if I-“

The rest of his thought didn’t need to be spoken and Harry gave in with a sigh, avoiding both of their pleading eyes. He thought it ridiculous as he slid into bed on the other side of Hermione, occupying the same space he had for the past several months. He managed to make himself as small as possible, not touching Hermione though he could almost feel the heat from her body.

His sleep was fitful, punctuated with painful dreams of being back in the tent, the locket still around Ron’s neck and the news overheard by Dean and Griphook still ringing in their ears. More clearly than ever he could see Ron, slouching away from them, a dark look in his eyes.

“Then go!” Harry could hear himself roaring.

No, this wasn’t right. Harry wanted to fight but was forced to watch this scene play out.

“And you?” Ron asked Hermione. “Are you coming or you staying?”

And for the first time, Hermione looked between them both, fearful as she locked eyes with him and wordlessly lowered the charm.

“I’m sorry Harry,” she said in a voice just above a whisper, unable to look at him now.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, screaming in his head at them to just pause for a moment, to just see reason. But before the words could erupt from him, Ron had lifted the flap to the tent and they were disappearing out of it, Ron giving Harry a victorious grin.

“No,” Harry was shouting. “No, please don’t go.”

Harry moved to catch up with them, unsure on whether he was going to beg for them to stay, just for a while, or to pummel Ron but was blocked by Hermione’s shield charm still in place. He bounced back, landing flat on his back and he watched through a gap in the tent as they met in a passionate embrace.

“No, Hermione” he shouted again, weaker now. “No, Ron, please don’t—“

Harry awoke with a start. He could feel his heart racing and he’d broken into a cold sweat.

“Harry?” a voice murmured from beside him and when he turned he saw Ron’s concerned eyes staring at him. He’d perched himself on an elbow and he’d reached over Hermione to jostle Harry. “Are you alright?”

Images of Hermione and Ron still locked together filled his mind as they abandoned him. It had been a long time since he’d had this nightmare.

“Fine,” Harry gasped, willing his pounding heart to slow.

“You were saying our names,” Ron told him matter of fact. “What were you dreaming about?”

About what came next for their relationship.

“No idea,” Harry lied, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He rolled over, eyes still wide open in hopes that Ron would simply think he’d fallen back asleep. After a minute this seemed to work. There was jostling as Ron settled back down and adjusted the covers around him. Ron let out a long sigh and his breathing slowed but Harry was far from sleep.

 

 


	9. Revelations and Hard Conversations

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. Surely he’d heard her wrong. “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” Hermione repeated in the same small voice.

“Are you sure?” he asked, blinking at her rapidly.

“Yes, Harry,” she said, sounding slightly annoyed and like herself for the first time all day. “I’m sure.”

The already strained bubble they’d been operating in seemed to pop before his eyes. There would be no hiding this, no mistaking the timeline in which their poor decision had been made. Here was the tangible proof that they had not remained stoic and pure in their search for Ron. Here was the confirmation of what everyone already thought of them. Harry felt ill.

“What are you going to tell him, Hermione?” Harry asked after what felt like an eternity.

“I’m not going to tell him anything,” Hermione said, giving him a funny look. “I’ll handle this, I just needed to talk to someone about it and seeing as you’re the only one-”

“Handle this?” Harry asked stupidly, looking her over. “Hermione, what do you mean?”

“I’m going to terminate the pregnancy Harry,” Hermione said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s nothing else to do.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Harry asked, impressed but horrified at Hermione’s ability to neatly resolve any issues in her way.

“It’s my body,” Hermione said, “It’s my marriage.”

“It’s my baby,” Harry countered.

Hermione looked hurriedly around them but the passageway outside of the room she’d pulled him into was just as empty as ever. Her eyes were blind with concern when she finally looked at him again. “He’s your best friend.”

“It’s my baby,” Harry repeated stubbornly.

No matter his fears of his indiscretion being actualized for the world to see, Harry felt a sudden longing at the idea of a child. A perfect mixture of him and Hermione, a permeant link between the two of them.

“It’s my marriage,” Hermione hissed. “My marriage with your best friend.”

“The best friend that you cheated on,” Harry said.

He knew he was being cruel but he’d rather her angry with him than stuck on the plan to end the first good thought he’d had in ages.

“With you,” Hermione snapped, “The best friend _you_ betrayed when you got into bed with _his_ wife.”

Their titles were being aggressively spat at one another. Harry felt the boundaries that had been arbitrary in Ron’s absence being firmly drawn again. There was a dangerous blaze in Hermione’s eyes and Harry resolved not to back down.

“I’m going to tell him,” Harry told her, suddenly resolved to get ahead of this. “We should have told him from the very beginning.”

“We don’t even know if it’s yours,” Hermione said urgently though they both knew the truth. “It could be R—“

“Really?” Harry let out a low laugh. “Who else have you been sleeping with while _your_ husband was Imperiused?”

He knew he had crossed a line and watched as the anger in her eyes flared. Before he could take back what he’d said, defend himself, her hand was raised and a loud slap echoed through the room followed by a sharp sting in his cheek. Before he could react, before he could begin to apologize for the line he’d blatantly ignored, Hermione had already turned on her heel and he watched her trembling back as she stormed away.

 

Harry had never felt worse. In the span of a few months, he’d ruined every important relationship he’d held. He couldn’t justify even to himself his strong reaction to the news that Hermione was now carrying his child. He knew, deep down, he’d been acting on the fear that had been growing since Ron’s return that soon they would be shunning him too. In shame of what they’d done, Hermione would slowly push him away and take Ron with her. Coupled with the tension Harry felt whenever he was alone with Ron, his return had gradually become less relieving.

Ginny, though she was no longer spreading rumors nor giving aggressively angry looks whenever they crossed paths, was still refusing to speak to him. It seemed less and less futile that they would ever reconcile their friendship. Soon, he would have no place to live. He had no one else.

He considered not going home that evening, but he had nowhere else to go. The Weasleys had been his family, Ron and Hermione had been his family. He hadn’t noticed but it seemed that the further they’d gotten from Hogwarts the more they had isolated themselves. Bit by bit until it was only ever the three of them. No wonder Ginny had her suspicions.

When he finally convinced himself to leave the office, even if just to let them have a go at him, it was to a dark and still flat. There was no waiting meal and for the first time in memory, the door to the bedroom was firmly shut. Harry showered as quietly as he could and curled underneath the blankets one of them had laid out for him on the couch. If he strained his ears, he thought he could hear their low voices talking, raised in volume at moments, but he was unable to make out what they were saying.

 

He awoke in the morning to Ron sitting in the armchair beside him and staring at him hard. Harry felt a panic rise in his throat as he sat up, feeling unrested and knowing whatever it was Ron had to say would not be good.

“Hermione’s told me what happened while I was gone,” Ron announced without preamble.

His face was unreadable, but Harry knew what this meant. He should have just gotten a hotel or rented a room above the Leaky Cauldron instead of trying to remain so close.

“She thought you’d left her,” Harry told him softly, sitting up and putting his dirty glasses on his face. Even if his relationships were blowing up one by one in his face he felt he still had to preserve the relationship of the people who mattered most to him.

“I know,” Ron answered in the same toneless voice. “I’m not cross with her.”

It dawned suddenly on Harry that he’d not heard them rowing last night. Even with silencing charms he always knew when they were fighting.

“Doesn’t mean I’m pleased,” Ron added.

Harry was unsure of what Ron wanted from this conversation but Harry felt no matter what he said it would only end in a fight.

“What did she tell you?” Harry asked, wondering how, if Ron really knew, he hadn’t awoken to fist pummeling into him.

It was one thing to have betrayed Ron like they had. It was another to have the evidence growing in Hermione’s womb. Harry was afraid to look Ron fully in the eye but when he did they were swimming with pain and betrayal.

“Everything.”

There were no more secrets, nothing else left for him to hide behind.

“I should go,” Harry muttered, throwing the blanket off of him and retrieving his pants from the back of the couch.

“She doesn’t want to give up the baby,” Ron announced as Harry was midway through pulling up his trousers.

“What?” Harry asked stupidly. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Not my body, not my decision,” Ron said in a final sort of way. “She just thought it would be easier on all of us. Hermione’s so logical sometimes she doesn’t think about what she actually wants or how she feels. Hell, if she had figured out there was a Horcrux inside of you she probably would have offed you if it meant the war could’ve ended sooner."

Stunned, Harry sat back down, his trousers pooling around his ankles. “You just said you weren’t happy about this.”

“Who would be Harry?” Ron asked him. “Who would be happy to wake up after months of being Imperiused only to discover that their wife is pregnant with someone else’s child?”

Harry still felt completely lost. “So, what? You’re just going to raise it like it’s your own?”

“It’s your child Harry,” Ron said, sounding for the first time annoyed. “My wife just happens to be the mother.”

“How’s that going to work?” Harry asked angrily. “You want me out of here!”

“I didn’t ask you to leave!” Ron retorted. “You’re the one trying to throw yourself out of the situation like being a martyr is going to solve anything.”

“But you had me sleep on the couch—“

“Harry,” Ron answered, rolling his eyes. “Hermione came home and told me that she’d been sleeping with you. Forgive me for not wanting to invite you straight back into our bed.”

Harry was so stunned he didn’t know how to reply.

“No one would want to wake up and find their wife pregnant with someone else’s baby, but it’s not just someone else. It’s you, Harry,” Ron said earnestly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked.

Suddenly Ron seemed rather uncomfortable, his ears turning red but he maintained eye contact as he muttered. “Hermione thinks you’re attracted to me as well.”

Just like the day before when Hermione had blind sighted him, Harry’s blood was suddenly pounding impossibly loud in his ears. He tried to gauge what Ron was thinking and he didn’t look repulsed by the notion as Harry had feared. 

“So what if I am?” he asked in the bravest voice he could muster.

“How’d you work that one out?” Ron asked.

Harry wasn’t sure he was enjoying the intense look Ron was giving him. “Why? Looking for pointers?”

“Maybe,” Ron said smugly and Harry felt his heart race even faster. “Seriously mate, how’d you work it out?”

“Well,” Harry said softly, “it didn’t take me until fourth year to figure out that Hermione was a girl.”

“Oi, I knew she was a girl,” Ron snapped and then flushed. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Neither did I,” Harry agreed quickly, “But before I could figure out what it meant it was pretty obvious how you felt about her and I didn’t see a point. I wanted both of you to be happy more than anything and I didn’t want just one of you anyway.”

“How do you mean?” Ron questioned, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like both of you on your own, but it always felt wrong when the two of you were fighting with each other or with me. Third year with Hermione, fourth with you, sixth year when the two of you couldn’t even be in the same room. It always felt wrong somehow not to be friends with the both of you.” Harry paused, unsure what he was saying was making any sense. “It was always better when we were all together, yeah?”

“You said it was fourth year for Hermione,” Ron redirected. “And what about me?”

“I knew from about third year on that you only had eyes for her,” Harry said softly, excusing himself from his own statement. “You were always so hyper-aware of where she was, with the time turner and all. It made me feel, jealous. I’d never had any friends before, I thought that was how I was supposed to feel, not getting your attention.”

Back then, he’d never paid mind to his intense feelings about his best mate but he’d spent the past few months tracing the patterns. It was easy now, to explain it all in a narrative.

“Then in our fourth year, those weeks when you didn’t believe me, they were the worst weeks of my life and when you came around everything just felt complete again. I thought that was how you were supposed to feel about someone, I never even realized it was something more until Ginny pointed it out and-“ Harry felt suddenly overwhelmed and looked to Ron in fear to find him nodding as if everything Harry had said made perfect sense.

“I suppose I’ve always felt attracted to you,” attracted felt like too strong of a word and Harry wasn’t sure he wanted the implications. “Drawn to you, that is. Both of you, it was always better when it was the three of us.”

“The three of us,” Ron murmured as if tasting the words in his mouth.

“Then there was the tent and the year after when it felt like it was always going to be the three of us,” Harry continued, encouraged by Ron’s thoughtful look. “I mean, you and Hermione were together, but we were still living together and spending every moment together. When you proposed, it was a bit of a shock. I knew suddenly there was going to be this boundary where there had never been one before. We’d barely started sleeping in our own rooms and suddenly people were asking me where I was going to live once you were married and it had honestly never occurred to me to live anywhere but with you.”

Ron continued to nod as if what Harry was saying made perfect sense. “What about Ginny?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Hermione reckons I had the same gut reaction as you did when you had that row with Ginny after catching her with Dean. I’d been watching you and Hermione draw closer to one another, it felt like it was only a matter of time and I needed to find someone. And I liked Ginny, I still do. She’s kind and pretty and incredibly brave. Objectively she was all the things a bloke could want.”

Harry paused and then admitted for the first time something he’d been working out by himself for months. “Plus she was safe. It meant that I was always going to be a part of your family. And up until she didn’t, I thought she understood how much you and Hermione meant to me.”

“Up until when?” Ron questioned.

“Up until she ended things with me,” Harry said. “She pointed out that I’d rather spend time with the both of you than with her. She told me she felt like a bed warmer and someone who looked good on my arm. Which, I suppose had some truth.”

Ron nodded again, letting out a long sigh.

“How soon after did it start with you and Hermione?”

“Not until just before Christmas,” Harry said hurriedly. “I swear, before then I was just trying to comfort her but she was so sad and…“

Harry trailed off, the memory of how awful the holidays had been for them washing over him once more. “She came onto me for what it’s worth. Not that I’m trying to throw her under the bus—“

“I know,” Ron cut him off, an edge back to his voice. “She told me.”

There was a thoughtful look on Ron's face as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them so that their faces were only a wand’s length apart.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” Harry said automatically, “But Ron, I—“

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Harry answered before his brain could stop him.

“Do you want to be with us?”

And there was the question Harry never thought he would get to answer. It seemed wrong, selfish, to tell him the truth. It was one thing to be in love with them. It was a whole other thing to continue to act on it.

Ron was sitting there, stoic-faced, but there was an eagerness in his eyes. Harry had known Ron long enough to know when he wanted something and Harry had never seen him look at him this way.

“Are you barking?” Harry asked, unsure he could look away from Ron’s eyes if he was hexed.

“Only if you are,” Ron answered after a few tense seconds.

Harry fought the urge to kiss him. Even if Ron was conceding here, inviting Harry into the safety and warmth of their arms he wasn’t sure he would take well to Harry acting on a long-standing whim.

“Okay,” Harry managed. The room suddenly felt too hot and Ron entirely too close. Not that he minded.

“Are you—“ Harry stammered. “I just always thought you were—“

“Not entirely, no,” Ron answered, his ears turning red. “Not for every bloke, mind, but with you, it’s always been different.”

The tension between them seemed to have reached a crescendo and Harry watched desperately as Ron licked his lips. For a moment Harry fantasied about running his tongue over the very place Ron had just tasted, wondered how it would feel for the plump lips to be pressed against his.

“What’s changed?” the question burst out of Harry. Ron looked at him questioningly. “I just mean, since the locket-“

It was Ron’s turn to look uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. “Back then, I was always afraid that you two would realize that I had nothing to offer the two of you. That you really were better off without me.”

“Ron, we-“

“I know,” Ron said firmly, cutting him off. ”I’m not seventeen anymore. I know that Hermione loves me, how much you need me. As strange as it sounds, knowing that you two were miserable even though you were together proves that you really do need me. That you’re not going to run off and be better without me.”

Again they found themselves incredibly close. “We could never run off,” Harry murmured. “Not without you.”

Ron cleared his throat and leaned back, doubling the distance between them. There was a different sort of tension in the room now and Harry found himself balling his hands into fists to resist reaching out to make contact.

“You’re going to be late for work.” He told Harry in a deeper voice than normal. “Don’t stay late, the three of us can sit down and have a proper chat about what this means, I’m sure Hermione has plenty of things to say.”

Harry glanced down at his watch, it seemed impossible that not even a quarter of an hour had passed since he’d first woken up. In that time his entire life had changed. All the same, if he didn’t get moving he really would be late for work. His trousers were still around his ankles and he became acutely aware of Ron watching him unabashed, as he dressed.

When he emerged from the loo Ron was hovering hesitantly in the doorframe to the kitchen with a biscuit and a coffee in his hand.

“Sorry I made you kip on the couch last night,” Ron said in a quiet voice, his cheeks a brilliant shade of maroon. “I know it’s awful.”

“Funny, that’s the same line Hermione used to get me into bed,” Harry quipped, realizing suddenly how it sounded but Ron was grinning at him as he passed over the coffee.

“Seriously, get home as soon as you can,” Ron told him as Harry murmured his thanks. “We’re already going to be facing a book of questions as it is.”


	10. Happiest Together

Waring emotions of elation and trepidation made it almost impossible for Harry to sit through the day. Elation as the words from his conversation with Ron rolled over him again and again whenever he paused to think. It seemed completely impossible that his two best friends wanted him, were open to accepting him into their warmth. Perhaps not as he did, not as strong yet, but it was a promise, an opening into something Harry had thought closed off forever. Still, there was the trepidation at the conversation still to come with the third member of their trio.

As the day wore on Harry found himself useless, spending half the morning on the same briefing that usually only took him an hour to draft. Not for the first time since the horrid ordeal had begun, Harry dismissed himself almost a full hour before the end of his workday, knowing Roberts wasn’t likely to say anything to him. Not after what he’d put them through.

It was to his surprise that Hermione was already home, sitting at the kitchen table and muttering to herself over a partially unrolled scroll, her quill scratching as she made another note. Ron was sitting beside her, making faces as he looked over her shoulder, his arm around the back of her chair. 

“Told you she’d write a novel,” Ron muttered to Harry as he too tried to peek at the list. The words _masturbate_ and _hygiene expectations_ stood out to Harry and he found himself suddenly rather nervous.

“Is all this necessary?” Harry asked, sitting down at Ron’s other side and pulling the parchment towards him. “ _Have you had any encounters with the same gender?_ Blimey Hermione, you’ve known since me since we were eleven. When have I had the time to be with a boy?”

“I just think we should be thorough,” Hermione said defensively, blushing. “Besides, these questions are for us too, there’s plenty on here that you might not know."

“You wouldn’t be the woman I loved if you weren’t,” Ron told her with a wink at Harry. He stood up, gripping Harry’s shoulder affectionally as he passed. “Besides, the later ones are a lot kinkier.”

Harry glanced further down the list and then up at Hermione who was scarlet and avoiding his eye. “You did this at work?” he teased and to his delight, she gave the tiniest of nods.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said as he stared at her admiringly. “I didn’t have anything to do and it’s not like anyone pays attention to me anymore.”

Briefly, Harry felt sorry for her but that emotion was almost immediately replaced with shock as he got to some of the more raunchy requisitions Ron had been alluding too.

“ _What’s your record for most orgasms given in a night?”_ Harry read.

“That particular one was Ron’s contribution,” Hermione told him, pulling the parchment back towards her and put a neat check mark by the question.

Ron sniggered from the oven. “I was just trying to get into the spirit of things.”

“Eleven, by the way,” he added to Harry with a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree with him.

“Are you sure you want to know all these things?” Harry asked, “I mean, there’s a lot of things on here, and seeing as I’ve been with Ginny for the past few years.”

“Not asking you to go into detail or anything,” Ron muttered and Harry was thankful that he looked appropriately uncomfortable at the thought.

“And we don’t have to go through all these tonight,” Hermione said firmly. “It’s just all the things I think we should get to eventually. Stepping into an established relationship means that we already know these things about each other and you’ll never know unless you ask. Communication has never been your strong suit, Harry.”

“Never been any of our strong suit,” Harry muttered, looking pointedly at them both.“And when did you become the expert on normal relationships? You’ve only ever been with one man since you were eighteen.”

“I’ve read plenty about relationships,” she told him.

“Not about this,” Ron protested.

Expecting a quip or to see her rolling her eyes, Harry was surprised to find her looking intently down at the parchment again.

“Hermione,” Ron said to her in amazement. “When on earth did you find the time to read books about this _?”_

“Like I said, no one really pays attention to me at work anymore,” Hermione muttered.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shared identical grins. Ron crossed the kitchen and leaned down close to her. “You’re telling me that you were reading about _threesomes_ at work?”

“It wasn’t about threesomes,” Hermione said, her voice an octave higher than usual. “It was about Polyamory. And no one pays attention to me and I charmed the cover and-“

Ron cut her off with a peck to the lips and broke away chortling. “Who would have thought that the bossy, know-it-all first year we saved from a troll would grow up to slack off at work to read books about threesomes?”

His tone was admiring and Hermione looked pleased with herself as she looked down at the parchment again.

“We should have dinner,” Ron told her firmly, as they both knew she was about to launch into it again. “Speaking of which, there’s almost nothing here, did either of you even eat while I was gone?”

 

Dinner was a quick affair, for all they talked about wanting to put it off, Harry knew Ron was as anxious as he to get the questions over with and proceed to the more physical stage of the night. The questions started simple enough, answers they all already knew about each other about their history and crushes. Rather rapidly they went from questions Hermione designed so Ron could gain confidence about himself to rather deep questions about preferences that Harry had yet to deeply explore.

“Hermione,” Ron groaned when she’d rapid fired her seventh question about either of their sexual desires for men. Each one Ron had answered with a noncommittal _I don’t know_ while his cheeks steadily grew in color. “It’s not just about the sex, yeah? Can’t we come back to those later? When I’ve had a bit of time to work it out?”

Harry had felt Ron’s desire turning to shame as Hermione tried to pry out of them what they wanted. The fact that Ron was open, even at times seemingly excited, about wanting him was enough for Harry. Giving him more time to consider felt completely reasonable given the fast pace their relationship had been altered. Besides, it hardly felt sexy to hear what Ron wanted from Hermione over their kitchen table administering a survey.

“I’m just trying to establish a baseline here,” Hermione defended, somehow maintaining her complexion. “How are we going to know if this’ll work if we don’t know what one another’s expectations are?

“Ron’s right,” Harry swooped in, feeling personally that Hermione was closer to scaring Ron off than leading back to the tension that’d been lingering since this morning. “Let’s just focus on making ourselves comfortable. It’ll happen when it happens.”

Hermione huffed but was enticed to the couch with the prospect of a foot rub. Nestled in-between Ron’s legs she faced Harry, who drew her feet into his lap and set to fulfill his promise.

“No running,” Hermione told them in her still bossy voice. “When we have issues, we all agree to sit down and talk about things.”

“Alright,” Ron said in a low voice, leaning closer to her with his eyes locked on Harry’s. “Best mates first. If this all goes to shit we remember we were friends first.”

Harry wanted to ask Ron when he planned on this going to shit but he didn’t think Hermione would take this well. Instead, he nodded, watching, unabashed as Ron moved in closer to Hermione’s neck, so close he was sure she could feel the heat radiating from his lips.

“No games,” Harry inputted before they got completely off track. “No using one to get back at the other.”

Hermione gave him the same smile she reserved for when they answered the question right after a couple of tries. She nudged him playfully with her foot and he felt a warmth spread inside him.

Harry watched with interest as Ron tilted Hermione’s face into the right position and then claimed her lips with his own. He could see Hermione coming up with her next protest but it was lost in her throat as she gave a happy sigh and reciprocated. Harry had seen them kiss many times before, they had hardly been discreet within the home they’d shared, but never this close.

“Ron,” Hermione said breathlessly as they parted, her eyes looking slightly dazed now. “Harry’s here.”

“I know,” Ron murmured, looking up and catching Harry’s eye as he moved her lips to lazily suck on her neck.

Harry hadn’t known he was drawing in closer to them but suddenly he found himself halfway over Hermione, her knees under his chest and his face much closer than it usually was. He wanted to kiss Hermione now, taste Ron on her lips, but he didn’t know how Ron would react to him making a move so bold. He glanced over at him to find Ron staring back intently. The moment their eyes met Harry could feel him reading his mind and Ron almost nudged Hermione’s face closer to Harry with his own, leaning back and watching them intently.

When they kissed previously Hermione hadn’t been so stiff, but Harry supposed they both were acutely aware of their audience and gave a chaste peck on the lips before parting.

“Oh come on,” Ron groaned at them, his voice low and rough. “I know that’s not how you got her pregnant.”

“Ronald,” Hermione chastised.

Harry reached up, putting his free left hand behind her neck to guide her while his right arm now supported all of his weight. In an effort to get closer to her he was nearly spooning her, trapped between her and Ron’s leg. “Bloody hell,” Ron whispered as they parted and before Harry could even remove his hand from the back of Hermione’s neck, Ron had shifted them all, claiming Harry’s mouth with his own.

It was supposed to feel weird, kissing his best mate. Thinking it would feel weird had been what had stopped Harry from fantasizing about it when he was younger, but nothing about it felt odd at all. Ron’s lips were rougher, more forceful and he took control, nudging Harry into a more comfortable position. Somewhere beneath them, Hermione let out a breathy sigh and Harry and Ron’s hands met on the side of her face to comfort her.

They grinned at one another as they parted and Ron wove their fingers together over Hermione’s shoulder. She wiggled her way out from under them, climbing onto Ron’s lap and pulling Harry in for a long kiss.

The transition to bed was less than smooth and Harry found himself thinking often that they were leaving one of them out but it was wonderful all the same. Watching Ron and Hermione together, their practiced movements synchronized, felt intrusive even when Ron’s hand took his hand and guided it to where his and Hermione’s bodies were meeting, even when Hermione sucked on his neck while Ron kissed him breathless.

It was several hours before they all collapsed in the bed, boneless. Ron wound up in the middle, Hermione resting her head on his chest and his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Well,” Ron asked, idly stroking Hermione’s hair. “I think we might have answered some of Hermione’s questions.”

“Shut up,” Hermione murmured, half asleep as Harry caught Ron’s eye and they grinned at one another.

 

Hermione was no longer working impossible hours and it became downright painful to leave for the office in the mornings. Not when he knew Ron was at home, waiting for them. Robards, however reluctant he’d been to release Ron from round the clock observations, had managed to detain him within the home with more potions than Harry could keep straight.

For his part Ron hardly complained, eager to have them home every night or when they stopped home for lunch. Harry never managed to eat much when he went home for lunch though and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his co-workers, who were gradually warming up to him again, pointed out the grin on his face when he came back.

The only thing Ron lamented, though he kept his comments short, was in that he couldn’t tell his family what had happened.

“They haven’t seemed very concerned about his disappearance up to this point,” Robards replied when Harry finally brought this up at Ron’s insistence.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from bitterly agreeing with him. “I understand that sir, but soon enough they’re going to start asking questions. Besides, how are we supposed to draw out who did this so long as Ron isn’t seen in public?”

Robards frowned for a good minute and Harry knew he was going to win before he even let out a reluctant sigh. “Very well, but for now let’s keep it within the family.”

It was how he and Hermione found themselves watching from the bed as Ron got dressed the following Sunday afternoon.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry was uncertain what she was more worried about, the idea of Ron going off on his own or the idea of facing the family who had abandoned them.

“Nah,” Ron said with a grin and Harry knew he was just as eager to be able to get out as he was to see his family again. “I won’t be long.”

“What are you going to say?” Hermione asked of him, easily relaxing back against Harry’s arm.

“Dunno,” Ron admitted, pausing with a jumper in his hand. “Haven’t exactly thought it all the way through.”

“Well, maybe we should talk about it,” Hermione said, “before you let something slip.”

“I’m not going to let anything slip,” Ron said with more confidence than Harry felt. “I’m just going to let them know that I’m all right, what they’ve done is unacceptable, and that Harry knocked you up.”

“Ron,” Hermione chastised but Harry grinned at him.

“He’s joking,” Harry assured her, catching her before she bounded out of bed. Ron winked at him, flattening his hair with his hand and coming over.

“I’ll be good,” he assured them both, leaning in to peck them both. “I’ll see you soon.”

Harry and Hermione were scarcely dressed and sitting at the table discussing their own lunch when Ron reappeared in the middle of the living room, holding a comically large pot of soup which had spilled down his front.

“What happened?” Harry demanded, taking the pot from his hands as Hermione ordered him to take off his jumper and began to fuss over the red patches on his stomach.

“Well,” Ron said, looking utterly stunned. “Everyone was there for lunch.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged alarmed looks as Hermione guided Ron to the couch and summoned dittany from the bathroom.

“And I sort of yelled at them,” he glanced around and at the pot Harry had put on the stove. “And then I stole their lunch.”

Harry fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculous nature of the situation.

“Did you know Percy had a girlfriend?” he asked of them both and they shook their heads. “I don’t think I made a great first impression.”

“What did they say?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“Er,” Ron said, looking at her in surprise. “I didn’t exactly give them any time to respond. I saw the letters though, complete hogwash, if they’d’ve let either of you take a look at it then they would have known straight away something was wrong. There could have been a proper investigation.”

“There wouldn’t have been,” Harry said, “Robards knew where you were the whole time, he never wanted there to be an investigation.”

“Oh,” Ron said, blinking at him. “Right. Still, then at least my family wouldn’t have questioned the pair of you.” He paused, coming back to himself and grinning. “Even if they were right.”

Hermione swatted at him as she stoppered the bottle. “You’re going to want to soak that,” she said, gesturing to the jumper she’d stripped off of him, “before it sets in.”

“Seems at least Ron’s sorted out lunch,” Harry commented, picking up the jumper for Ron who was still looking rather dazed and taking it with him as he went to the kitchen to dish up the soup. He was just at the doorway when he heard Ron whispering something which made him stop in his tracks.

“I didn’t catch his name Hermione,” Ron whispered to her as Harry paused to listen. “I was a little occupied with telling them off.”

“Catch who’s name?” Harry asked, sharper than he’d intended.

Ron flushed, avoiding his eye. “Er, it seemed Ginny had someone with her.”

“Ah,” Harry said, stunned, “I see.”

Not wanting to face them he turned, continuing into the kitchen. He heard them enter from behind him and he busied himself with rinsing the jumper of Ron’s he still held in his hand. Sensing that Hermione was about to say something he avoided turning around still,portioning the soup and getting out the bread but too soon found himself out of tasks and they were still there, sitting side by side with anxious expressions.

Hermione was looking at him worriedly. “Are you alright Harry?”

“Course,” he answered automatically. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re allowed to be upset mate,” Ron said tentatively, glancing at him.

“You were with Ginny for a long time,” Hermione continued for him, “and she did move on awfully fast.”

“Well so did I,” Harry shot back, regretting instantly how short he sounded. Hermione didn’t flinch at his tone and he sat down beside her, allowing her to take his hand.“Is it wrong that I think our situations are completely different?”

“No,” Hermione sat at once as Ron shrugged.

They were quiet for a minute and then the question burst out of Harry. “How could she have taken him to the Burrow while I’m still shunned?”

“You won’t be for long,” Ron told him assuredly. “I wouldn’t let mum hug me until she apologized, you’ll be getting a letter any time now.”

Harry gave a weak grin as Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think you’re more upset about Molly taking a side against us than you are about Ginny finding someone new.”

She was right, but when wasn't Hermione right? He felt a surge of anger not at anyone in particular and found himself suddenly not wanting to think about it anymore.

“Can we drop it?” Harry asked.

Hermione clearly wanted to say something more but was silent when Ron put his hand on her shoulder. They ate quickly and in relative silence. Harry could tell Hermione was burning to ask him more questions and as soon as she got up to clear the table he saw her mouth open.

“Hermione if you say one word about Ginny right now I am going to be cross with you,” Harry said shortly.

“I wasn’t,”Hermione lied, flushing and pressing her lips to his cheek. “All I was going to say is, I’m really glad that you’re here with us now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say it enough but thank you to everyone for supporting the story. This started as a way to procrastinate from a term paper last December and I never expected so much investment and love from this community. 
> 
> This story will (likely) be on hiatus until May due to the end of the semester. I want to pause things on a happy note rather than an angsty cliff hanger. Expect the next update on May 10th at the latest.


	11. Rita Skeeter Meddles Again

 

“I’m right there!” Ron shouted.

They were gathered around the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out on the surface between them. The headline blared: _Golden Trio Baby Drama_ accompanied by a rather large picture of Harry and Hermione exiting the maternity ward. Ron was pointing at the photograph angrily where his disembodied arm was just visible in the frame, hand resting on the small of Hermione’s back.

“They don’t even name me but I’m right fucking there!” Ron continued.

Wearily Harry stared down at the photograph. He had been several steps ahead of them and in the picture was holding open the door for both of them to pass through, laughing at something Ron said, both he and Hermione staring off at the corner of the photograph where his face would have been. They hadn’t even noticed the photographer.

“Couldn’t be reached for comment,” Ron continued to scowl at the happy picture. “You didn’t even try.”

“It’s not like we’ve been particularly eager to comment these past few months,” Hermione said dryly.

Harry couldn’t find anything to say, looking between them nervously. He would give anything to return to that moment, the sweet memory of hearing the baby’s heartbeats for the first time, the joy in Ron’s eyes as he pressed his palm over Hermione’s abdomen. They’d left and gone to the market before returning home, everything had felt normal, sorted. He should have known something was lurking around the corner, waiting to burst their bubble.

“Well, I guess this takes the pressure off of us telling your parents,” Hermione said, flicking her wand at the paper. It folded itself neatly and then as if on second thought, Hermione swished her wand again and it went soaring into the fire where it ignited at once.

Harry watched as the picture of them slowly burned away along with the words accusing them yet again of the rumors which were now based in truth.

“You alright?” Ron asked and Harry turned to find Ron staring at him, still looking completely livid.

“Fine,” Harry said, not wanting to linger on Ron’s aggressive reaction to someone merely speculating the true paternity of Hermione’s child. It was only a matter of time until it came into the open, they could hardly hide it for the rest of their lives.

“We should go out today,” Hermione said when Harry didn’t continue. “Be seen in public, try and do some damage control.”

“Maybe you two should go alone,” Harry said. He didn’t particularly feel like putting on a happy face.

“Not as likely to be noticed without you though,” Ron commented, lingering malice in his voice.

“No really, I should go into the office and try and get some work done anyway,” Harry said and was thankful after only a few weak protests they released him.

 

Finally permitted to return to work, Ron now accompanied Harry into the office each morning. The official story of Ron being placed on a secret undercover mission had been accepted without speculation and with his return, they all forgot any malice they'd held against Harry. With his reputation cleared, Harry had finally been reassigned to a partner temporarily as Ron was deskbound until the healer cleared him fully. 

While at first Ron had been elated to resume his job, the fortnight he’d been back in action had eroded all his joy. Harry could tell he was completely and utterly bored and did not pity the position as Harry himself had spent nearly six months confined to the office. Harry was, however, beginning to resent the bitter attitude Ron was talking about Harry finally being reassigned.

“It’s not like it’s permanent,” Harry argued when Ron made the dozenth snide comment of the morning. “As soon as Duckworthy comes back I’m sure Robards will put me straight back on desk duty with you." 

Hermione, on the cusp of entering her second trimester, was completely and utterly miserable. Her nausea was relentless, and by the end of each day was exhausted. She was therefore unable to mediate or even pay notice to the growing tension between Harry and Ron.

During the day they managed to maintain their typical routine. In the evenings Harry would come home to dinner and afterward, they’d retire to the couch, Harry finishing his work as Hermione dozed and Ron listened to the wireless. However, sometime each evening the mood would shift. One moment they’d all be sharing in each other's space, legs on legs, hands casually resting on thighs and then suddenly Ron would start drawing Hermione closer to him, glancing suspiciously at Harry whenever he tried to reach for them.

When Ron kissed Hermione it felt to Harry that he was trying to prove something, lay a claim to her. And when he’d try and join them, put his arm around her shoulders or greet her with a kiss he didn’t miss Ron’s scowl. Whenever Harry tried to touch Ron he would draw away, snatching away his hands and withdrawing from their kisses as quickly as possible.

In turn or in retaliation Harry did not know but the jealous monster in his chest awoke from its long slumber. Now, whenever he saw them together he suddenly felt the need to insert himself in the middle, kiss them the deepest. Though they still slept in the same bed and shared the same flat he no longer felt a part of what they once had.

So, Harry was not the least bit surprised when on a Friday evening, Ron announced he was done.

“This isn’t working.” 

Since the picture had debut nearly three weeks prior something had changed. It was no longer about what they wanted, what they desired, but about what the wizarding world would think should they one day know what happened behind closed doors.

“What?” Hermione asked, stunned as she whipped around to look at him.

Harry said nothing, abandoning his attempt to massage Hermione’s feet and stared hard at Ron. He had a stubborn look on his face, one Harry had always been hesitant to engage with.

“This isn’t working,” Ron repeated. 

“You’d promised you’d try,” Hermione gasped as the meaning dawned on her. There were already tears in her eyes. “You promised Ron.”

“Well, I have, haven’t I?” Ron defended. “I agreed to try this and if it didn’t work we’d talk about it.”

“Alright,” Hermione agreed urgently, fighting to remain calm. “Let’s talk about it then.”

Ron looked suddenly uncomfortable and refused to meet Harry’s eyes. He took Hermione’s hand in his and said quietly. “I don’t like the world thinking my best made knocked up my wife.”

“Well I have, haven’t I?” Harry asked dryly.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Ron snapped at him, glaring as she cautious tone he’d used with Hermione vanished. “I know you went behind my back and slept with my wife.”

“Ron,” Hermione cried, “Nothing’s changed, why are you upset about this all of the sudden?”

“Maybe we should get him to the hospital,” Harry said, hoping for the faintest of moments that perhaps this was merely a lingering effect from the spell. He knew in his heart that this had been building for weeks.

Ron shot daggers at him. ‘This isn’t the bloody spell, alright? I didn’t ask for anything to change.”

“You left!” Harry shot at him, getting to his feet, unable to sit so close to them. “We didn’t ask for anything to change either.”

“Because I was cursed!” Ron shouted, rising at once to Harry’s level. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen and I’ve been trying to be cool about all of this but I didn’t ask for you to sleep with my wife Potter!”

“I didn’t ask for you to get cursed,” he argued. “It’s not like I was poised, waiting for something to happen to you. I was comforting my best friend when she thought her husband had left her-“

“Stop it,” Hermione cried out, “Stop acting like one of you has more of a claim to me!”

Ron turned on her. “Well, I thought it bloody meant something, when we got married, didn’t it? I thought it meant we belonged to one another and no one else.”

“It’s Harry,” Hermione cried out.

There were tears streaming down her face and at once Harry wanted to gather her up in his arms. For some reason, these words gave Ron pause and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Even if it’s Harry,” Ron said in a tense voice. “You married me, Hermione, you agreed to stay with me, to be with me. I never asked you to accept Harry, you’re the one who asked me to accept him.”

Harry felt sick watching them fight.

“What’s it going to be Hermione?” Ron was asking now, stealing the words straight out of Harry’s nightmares. “Him or me?”

For a wild moment, Harry wondered if this hadn’t been the casters plan all along, not to torture just Ron but to put them into the exact circumstances for this all to fall apart. He all at once that it was over for him. There wouldn’t be a choice. Even if Hermione chose him, even if beyond some odds she made the choice to abandon Ron it would never be the same. All those months of the two of them alone had been just like in the tent, trying to figure out a way to fill the Ron sized void in their life.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, her face twisted with shock. Her hand moved automatically to drape protectively over her belly which was barely swollen under her shirt. “Ron please don’t.”

“I get it,” Ron said at once and there were tears in his eyes.

“Ron,” Hermione croaked again, reaching out for him but he stepped from her reach.

Harry wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, to wipe the tears from her eyes and stroke her hair as she sobbed. But he knew what he had to do. He’d been fighting it, resisting from the moment that Ron had come home. It had been foolish to think it would end any other way.

“It’s alright,” Harry said suddenly, cutting through the choking silence. “It’s alright, it’s over.”

There was no other ending. He couldn’t do this to them, not after all this time of them sticking by his side, blindly following him into battle and whatever else he asked of them. They had been endlessly loyal and he couldn’t allow for the tent scene to play out again. This wasn’t just another fight in the midst of saving the world. This was their marriage. No more than Harry had asked Ron to become imperiused had Ron asked for Harry to betray him like this. There was only ever going to be one ending.

They both turned to look at him, surprised.

“Ron’s right,” he said to the both of them, looking Ron straight in the eye. “You didn’t ask for this any more than we did. But you two made a promise to one another a long time ago.”

He’d expected Ron to look relieved, grateful even, but he simply stared at Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry could tell there was something he wanted to say that he hadn’t quite figured out the words.

“I can go back to being your friend,” Harry said in a voice he hoped was more convincing than how he really felt. “We can go back to the way things were.” 

Hermione’s crying only grew louder and Harry knew he had to get out of the room before he started sobbing too.

“Harry,” Ron called in an undefinable voice.

“It’s alright,” Harry assured them both. “Honest. You deserve a life without me in the middle. I’ll clear out and in a couple of weeks we can talk about what to do about the baby.”

It seemed neither of them had anything to say, both too stunned at their fight being suddenly resolved to argue with him.

“I’m going to go get my things then,” he said needlessly, walking past them into the bedroom.

When he emerged carrying his rutsack, Ron and Hermione were staring at one another in silent conversation. They’d moved close together, Ron’s arm around Hermione, tucking her into his chest. Harry couldn’t prevent the jealous pang he got as he looked at them, neatly together again as if he'd never stood alongside them.

“You don’t have to go,” Hermione said at once.

“No really, I do.” He paused, fidgeting with the straps on his pack. “I think I need some space.”

“Really,” Ron began to protest but he caught Harry’s eye and fell silent. “Where are you going, mate?”

It had been the first time since the bitterness had started to grow that Harry and heard the endearing term out of his mouth. For a moment Harry paused, looking at them fully. He wanted nothing more than to be in their embrace, for Ron’s arm to be around him and Hermione’s hand gripping his shirt. Now realized, he didn’t think his feelings towards them would ever go away. The longer he clung to them, the longer he tried to make it work the more he would wound whatever friendship they had left.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, trying to focus his will on exiting the flat rather than the wetness in his eyes, “Somewhere in muggle London.”

“Send us a note when you’ve settled,” Hermione told him sternly. “Let us know you’re safe.”

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly tight at the prospect of leaving them, even if it was just for a few days. Resisting the urge to hug them, Harry turned, opening the rarely used flat door and exited into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Procrastinating from finals? Me? Never. 
> 
>    
> This chapter is deeply personal so I'd appreciate productive or kind comments only, please. Hope you enjoyed!


	12. Never Going to Last

For what it was worth, Ron and Hermione respected his wishes to be left alone. After aimlessly wandering muggle London for the better of the evening Harry found himself inside of a modest flat in a not so safe neighborhood. Advertised for its week-to-week rent without a background check, the place was well worn and in need of a few decent cleaning spells. Harry knew he could have easily afforded a nicer place, every to rent out the nicest hotel suite for as long as he wanted but he didn’t feel as though he deserved something so comfortable. Not after all that had occurred.

The studio suited him fine. It had an odor he couldn’t quite get over but was safe enough with protection spells and it felt like a place Ron nor Hermione would ever step foot in. Which was what had drawn him to it in the first place. He didn’t want a space he could picture them in. It was painful enough even to reach for them when he awoke in the night, his hand desperately grasping at the stiff blankets beside him until he could awake enough to remember what had happened.

But despite all of his desperate wishing, Harry found every waking moment, and most of his dreams, dedicated in thought to them. From the moment he stepped foot into the room, collapsing onto the bed and staring blankly out the window, he found their conversations rolling over him again and again. Perhaps if he had said something different, done something different, then he wouldn’t have found himself in the position he did now.

Harry knew it was simply wishful thinking. He knew he never should have imposed himself onto the only people who had ever truly loved him. It was never going to last.

 

The weekend seemed to stretch on for ages. The muggle TV played nothing but commercials in-between short bursts of programming and it seemed no matter what show he picked he was reminded of them. The characters features and mannerisms, the love triangles and dramas. But all of the relationships where more than two had tried to lay a claim to one another ended the same as his. The two people who were meant to be together falling deeply in love and the fool who had tried to insert themselves getting cast aside for the sake of a happy ending.

 

Monday Harry got to work early in hopes he could collect his things and go out for the day without ever seeing Ron. With the culprit still at large, and with no leads to substantiate, Ron remained on desk duty in the cubical they still shared. It was to Harry’s dismay that when he arrived uncharacteristically early, Ron had had the same idea. Harry hesitated feet away from their cubical, wondering whether he shouldn’t just wait at his partner’s desk, or perhaps down at the cafe until Duckworthy arrived. But before he could decide on a plan of escape Ron had caught sight of him.

“Hey,” Ron said eagerly, relief filling his face. 

Harry merely grunted in response, not quite trusting his voice. He forced himself to press on, entering the cubical and hanging his cloak.

“Have a good weekend?” his voice was light and casual but he winced at his own words before Harry had the chance to.

Harry didn’t think his response would be appropriate. No, because every time I closed my eyes I pictured your naked wife kissing me while you-

Ron pressed on, not expecting a response to his careless question. “Listen, why don’t you come round for dinner? We can all have a chat.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Harry said shortly. The idea of having to face them both was too painful.

Ron nodded, and Harry had the thought that it had been Hermione’s insisting that he try and get him there for dinner so soon. “Well, Hermione still wants to know where you’re staying, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Harry snapped. “Just in case you decided you need to pick another fight?”

“No,” Ron answered in the same casual tone, ignoring Harry’s outburst. “But what if we need to get in touch with you? What if something happens to the baby?”

Well, Harry could hardly argue with that. Grabbing a scrap of parchment at random Harry scribbled down the address and turned to pass it to Ron. As their fingers brushed he felt a jolt run through him and his face grew hot as he snatched his hand away.

“Only for emergencies,” Harry told him in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. Ron was looking at him worriedly and Harry wished to be anywhere else. “I promise I’m not going to run off, I just need some space.”

“I know mate,” Ron told him. “But you can’t hate me for trying.”

No, Harry couldn’t hate him for anything. Not even the decision he’d made. Before Ron could say anything more, coax him back into the safety of the bubble they’d been living in Harry forced himself to stand and without another word set off.

 

 

No matter how early or late Harry arrived at the office, Ron was already there waiting. Every morning Ron would greet him as if nothing had ever happened but did not pressure him into anything more. It would have been easier, Harry thought, if Ron had been upset with him. If he’d dug in his heels rather than give in so quickly. Particularly when it was so uncomfortable being in the same space as Ron he couldn’t do it for more than five minutes at a time.

 

When their weekly meeting rolled around Harry avoided entering the room until the last possible moment, hoping to slip into the back of the room so as to avoid having to talk to Ron. His plan was thwarted however as by the time he’d arrived every chair was taken save for his customary seat beside his best mate.Ron gave him a sorry sort of look as Harry willed his face not to betray his emotions. Harry took his seat and positioned himself so as not to have to look at Ron except for out of the corner of his eye.

He heard Ron sigh quietly and felt his eyes studying him even as Robards stood up and began his weekly coverage of Ministry related updates. Ron was looking not at him, but ahead at the Head Auror with a dazed look on his face and Harry knew he wasn’t paying attention.

Ron looked tired, less energetic than he’d been in the weeks since his release.

He brought this on himself. Harry reminded himself sternly as he glanced again at the face of the man he loved.

Robards had moved on to the memo on polyjuice potion and that they should expect an increase of reports in the coming weeks. The brochure had been apart of the Department of Magical Law’s ongoing campaign to educate the general public about the tactics used in the last war.

“You know they wanted to publish a list of ingredients?” Ron said a in a low voice, revising Harry’s assumption that he hadn’t been listening. He leaned so close to Harry that he could feel his breath against his face. “Hermione put her foot down and said that they might as well give a page number rather than encourage some fool to experiment with the ingredients.”

Despite himself, Harry snorted before remembering why he’d been trying to avoid talking to Ron and frowned. He’d yet to see Hermione but he knew that she had a hand in the hand-packed lunches that Harry found on his desk every morning.

The meeting rambled on as their coworkers gave reports and Ron relaxed into a more comfortable position.

He slouched in his chair, his legs out in front of him, and rested his elbow on the armrest of Harry’s chair just as he’d done a thousand times before. Usually, Harry paid it no mind but now he found himself hyper-aware of the innocent placement, how close he was to Harry, and every time Ron adjusted in his seat the elbow inched over farther like a challenge. Trying to see how close he could get before-

Their arms jostled together and the contact sent a wave of warmth through Harry. He jerked away from his arm and from the corner of his mouth saw Ron frown. With deliberation and restraint, Harry relaxed, hyperaware of how close Ron’s arm was to his.

The elbows of their robes brushed together and Harry didn’t withdraw, settling his weight against Ron’s. Without even looking he could tell Ron was smiling and when he adjusted in his seat again he leaned towards Harry so that their entire upper arms were flush with one another.

Harry looked openly at his partner as Ron made a show of searching for something in his pocket just to prolong the contact and when Ron finally looked up he wore an innocent grin, masking his intention. Harry knew he should snatch his arm away. He knew it was dangerous to want more but it didn’t cause him to pull away, relishing in the feeling.

The tension only broke with the close of the meeting and the moment they were done Harry fled, fearful of what he might say should he and Ron be alone, fearful of what he might allow to happen, might initiate.

 

Two weeks. On Friday he ran across them in the Ministry cafe, sitting at their usual table with cups of tea, Ron’s arm draped casually over the back of Hermione’s chair their heads pressed together in conversation. At the sight of him, they both brightened and Harry was halfway across the room before he realized he was walking towards them. When he stopped first Hermione’s face fell and then Ron’s and as he turned to walk away Ron’s arm tightened around Hermione’s shoulders.

 

“Hermione’s got an appointment tomorrow,” Ron said the moment Harry stopped in the cubical.

His chipper facade was fading. It didn’t help that Harry did everything in his power to avoid being alone with him for too long. In fact, the only time they were in the same room for longer than Harry had to get his things together was in their weekly meeting where they engaged in a battle over the armrest that left Harry frustrated and wanting to pin Ron against the wall and coax his apologies from his lips as their hips-

“Come home Harry,” Ron murmured in a low voice,

Harry hadn’t even heard him approach but now Ron was standing right behind him, so close that Harry could smell his cologne.

“Come back to us, we miss you— I miss you.” Ron went on, encouraged by Harry’s silence. “I can’t keep this up, I can’t keep living without you.”

And wasn’t this what he’d wanted? Hadn’t he spent hours every night imagining Ron begging him home? Telling him that it was all going to be alright, that he’d overreacted and that they couldn’t live without him either. That he couldn’t live without Harry.

“You kicked me out,” Harry said and thought he meant the words to sting they wavered with his true emotion.

“I didn’t,” Ron said, “I didn’t mean to make you go I just-“

“You just what?” Harry asked, turning to face him and at the wounded look on Ron’s face anger flared within him.

Ron didn’t seem to have a response but his ears grew red.

“I don’t have time for this,” Harry snapped. Now that the anger was here it felt good, purposeful. “I have a job to do.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” Ron said. “You promised that we could talk but you’ve been avoiding me for a month and-“

“I said we could talk about it when I’m ready, " said Harry.

“You’ll never be ready Harry, you avoid conflict that’s the-“ Ron looked as frustrated as Harry felt. “Hermione and me, we know how to fight. We know how to disagree about something, come to a compromise and get over it, but you don’t know how to argue with anyone.”

Harry stared at him, his mouth opened in retort but no words were coming to him.

“You try your best to make everyone happy and you avoid conflict until it explodes out of you.”

“I don’t,” Harry protested without enthusiasm.

Their voices had been rising and Harry could feel the hushed silence of their the office trying to listen in. To Harry’s surprise, Ron grabbed his arm and Harry didn’t even think to protest as he was drug into the vacant meeting room.

“I didn’t mean to make you go,” Ron said plainly when the door was shut behind them and Muffilto had been cast. “I didn’t want you to go, I just needed to talk about it.”

Harry snorted “How how did you think that conversation was going to end? Because it seems you were trying to make Hermione choose between us which isn’t what it was at all.”

“I know that,” Ron muttered.

“We agreed, to try with the three of us and then there’s one picture in the Prophet and I come home to you forcing her to choose between us. This wasn’t just about Hermione and me, I meant what I said about how I felt for you, Ron.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do,” Ron muttered.

“What were you trying to do?” Harry asked desperately. The racing thoughts that had plagued him for weeks were suddenly spilling from him. “I feel for you as strongly as I feel for her. And I know that scares you and it doesn’t make sense but I am in love with you Ron. When we said we were going to try it meant all of us and all it takes is one picture for you to completely throw away anything you said you felt for me.”

“It didn’t change how I feel for you Harry,” Ron said softly.

“Then what did it change?” Harry shouted. “The fact that the baby’s mine? Because we already knew that, you agreed that we would make that work. You said it was as much as your kid as mine. You said it was going to be the three of us.”

Ron didn’t seem to have anything to say but the flood of emotions Harry had been hiding behind a careful facade could no longer be held at bay.

“Did you expect the world not to figure it out? When the baby came out looking like me with terrible eyesight and Hermione’s brains?” Harry shouted. “Or were you hoping that by some chance it would look enough like her that you could brush me under the rug and pretend like the child wasn’t mine?”

“No,” Ron said in a concerned voice. “Of course not.”

“Then what?”

“I got scared.”

This did nothing to quell the overwhelming feelings of abandonment that had plagued him since the moment this had all begun. “You said you loved me.”

“I do.”

“Then how could you have just thrown me away like I was your competitor?”

“I got scared,” Ron repeated, his voice rising. “I’m a coward, I thought you knew that about me.”

“You’re not a coward Ron,” Harry hissed, frustrated that he would use this old trick to make Harry feel bad for him.

“Yes,” Ron insisted, his face flushed. “I am. I’m a jealous coward and I self destruct. It’s the reason I spent months sucking face with Lavender instead of telling Hermione how I felt, it’s the reason I was rubbish at quidditch and it’s the reason I left you both in the tent.

“I love Hermione more than I can put into words, I mean able to fight off the Imperius curse when I thought she was in danger, in love with her. And you’re my best friend in this whole world, you’re the person who knows me the best. Seeing the both of you together is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen. And I don’t just mean in bed. I mean, the two of you are so perfect together it terrifies me.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked the anger which had been pulsing in his veins now subsiding. 

“Ever since this started I’ve been afraid that the both of you will wake up and realize that you really are perfect together and ditch me,” Ron spoke in a soft voice, his eyes locked on Harry’s. “When I saw the newspaper when I saw that everyone else thought that way too, I just had to know that if it came down to it I wouldn’t lose you both. I wasn’t thinking, I was a jealous prick and the only reason I didn’t lose you both that night was the fact that you’re my better half and you love us far more than my stupidity. The reason I never acted on my feelings towards you, the reason I never told Hermione even how I felt about you was that I was scared that I would lose you both.”

There was a pregnant pause in which they both stared at one another. Ron was trembling with emotion and Harry tried to think of a proper response but was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“We can’t survive without you,” Harry mumbled finally.

“What?”

“Hermione and I, we should fit together and we do in a way, but it’s not complete. If the world was as simple as the papers made it out to be, then Hermione and I should be very much in love, sustainable love. But when we’re alone it feels like we spend most of our time trying to fill the Ron sized hole in-between us.” Harry paused, thinking bitterly back on all the months they’d been forced to live without Ron. Fighting the war had been nothing compared to the horrible months that Harry was forced to spend without his best mate.

“Hermione and I aren’t trying to run you off because what would be left would be incredibly mundane. You and Hermione fit together, I see the two of you. When I leave the two of you still make sense but without you, we’re not the same.”

Ron had a hesitant smile on his face and reached out, gripping Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t care that Hermione is having your baby. Honestly, you two should probably have all of our babies because they’re going to be much prettier and braver than anything I could give to a child. All I’ll give them is jealousy and some truly horrible hair.”

“We like your ginger hair you know,” Harry said softly. He looked up and found himself fighting the urge to feel Ron’s soft locks between his fingers once more. “You and Hermione would make very pretty babies. Maybe even ones that can see.”

Ron grinned at him, that familiar grin Harry knew so well on those commanding lips that felt so perfect when pressed against his own.

“I got scared,” Ron repeated. “I got scared that the world knew about the thing we were still figuring out, the thing that was good, really bloody good. I got scared at what mum’s going to say when we have to explain to her that we really are all in love and happy.”

“And what if your mum doesn’t accept us?” Harry asked in a small voice. “What if your brothers never stop taking the mickey out of you?”

Ron paused for a long moment, his eyes never off of Harry. “Then that will be really hard.”

Harry could feel himself not breathing.

“But it will be nothing compared to how hard it would be to lose you.”

Harry fought the urge to kiss him.

“If my family doesn’t accept us then that will be awful, but we’ll make a new family. If they can’t see how happy we are then that will be their loss. As long as I have you and Hermione then I can face it.”

Touched by his tender confession, Harry stepped closer, wanting to feel Ron’s warmth again, wanting to wrap his arms around the man he loved.

“You really can be a prat sometimes.” He told him, inhaling his familiar scent and grabbing the outside of his robes. “A terrible romantic prat.”

Ron grinned at him, threading his fingers through the hair on the back of Harry’s head. He let out an involuntary hiss of air at the contact. Ron’s face tilted towards his and they were only inches apart. “Don’t let it get out.”

They kissed hungrily, a crescendo to the tension that had been brewing between them, and Harry didn’t care that they were in the middle of the office because it wasn’t enough.

“Come home Harry,” Ron murmured to him as they separated, breathing heavily and staring at each other intensely.

Harry nodded without thought, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. “Do you want to talk to Hermione first?”

“No,” Ron said at once. “She’s done nothing but cry all week, if I come home without you another night I think she’d just kick me right back out.”

 

From the moment Harry stepped from the grate Hermione had started crying and didn’t stop. First at the sight of him, fussing over him as she piled food onto his plate and then again when he came out of the shower, feeling the need to wash the grime of his previous place off his body before he touched them again. Even as they kissed, lazy and slow her face was wet with tears.

“Bimley Hermione,” Ron exclaimed as she burst into a renewed round as she watched the both of them kiss above her. “You’re going to make Harry think we don’t want him here.”

“But of course we want him here,” Hermione cried at this, clutching Harry’s shirt with her hands in a strong grip he could hardly move from. “This baby is just making my emotions wild.”

Harry chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and put his hand on top of hers to gently ease it from his clothing. “It’s alright Hermione, I’m happy to see you too. I’m happy to be home.”


	13. House Hunting and Overdue Apologies

 

“Harry, are you working tomorrow?” Ron asked as he entered the kitchen on Friday morning.

Already dressed for the day Ron and Hermione sat side by side, Hermione with a book out in front of her and Ron was pouring over the morning newspaper, circling things with a flourish.

“No,” Harry answered, dropping into a chair beside Hermione. “Unless you want some space, I’m sure Gently would be willing to trade shifts-“

“Of course we’re not trying to get rid of you,” Hermione said sweetly, flashing him a brief smile.

“We were hoping to be able to look at houses,” Ron continued.

“Houses?” Harry asked stupidly.

“Well yes,” Hermione said plainly, returning to her book. “It’s already tight enough in the bedroom without a crib, not to mention one bathroom for the three of us isn’t ideal.”

“Sides, Hermione and I have been trying to find time to move for ages,” Ron said, making another circle in what Harry could see was the Prophet’s for sale section. “But now that I’ve got an utterly boring schedule we’ll actually have the time. Not to mention the award money.”

“Award?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, all the money the ministry owes me for locking me up all those months. Robards got me the final numbers yesterday. He’s calling it workers compensation though,” Ron explained, “Not involuntary confinement like it should be.”

“Yes, and we’re very grateful for that because otherwise, the Prophet would have a field day.” Hermione reminded him sternly. “Anyway, it’s more than enough for a proper downpayment.”

“I’d like to contribute too,” Harry said at once before he could stop himself.

He glanced over at Ron nervously, even after all this time money had been a sore subject between them. Ron had a hard enough time when he’d insisted on paying for their drinks when they went out. He didn’t think offering to buy them a home would go over well.

“Well of course,” Hermione said without pause.

“It’s going to be your house too mate,” Ron finished for her.

Harry felt a warmth spread throughout him at Ron’s casual words. He still had a hard time believing that they wanted him, they actually wanted him to share their lives with him. Feeling almost drunk with happiness he leaned over and boldly kissed Ron. When they pulled away Ron looked dazed and Hermione tutted.

“What, no greeting for me?” Hermione teased, her lips curled in an amused smile. 

“You can’t blame me, Hermione,” Harry asked, “His lips are just so kissable.”

Hermione looked rather pleased with this and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“You’re being awfully smug this morning,” Ron commented, his ears bright red at Harry’s unexpected compliment.

“What can I say?” Harry asked. _I’m in love._

Hiding his blush Harry got up to pour himself a cup of tea and glanced at the stack of mail opened on the counter.

“Don’t touch that,” Ron said sharply as Harry started to pull towards him a letter where he’d spotted his name.

“Why not?” Harry asked, withdrawing his hand and leaning closer to read it. The parchment was covered in unfamiliar handwriting outlining nasty threats. “Blimey, how’d that get through the post?”

“No idea,” Ron answered, shaking his head. “Opened it by accident, Robards will want to see it through, might give him a lead.”

“You’d think they’d be more original,” Hermione said stiffly, “Entrail cruse to see what my blood color is, really, you’d think by now they would have thought of new insults.”

Even as she said it she put a protective hand over her midsection and Harry could feel her trepidation.

“Any leads then?” Harry asked Ron to change the subject.

“Nothing in London but we’d talked about moving to the countryside anyway,” Ron answered. “There’s a few near Hogsmeade, but I don’t know if we’d want to live so close to school. Dad also mentioned that the Fawcett’s are looking at moving if we’d want to live in Ottery St Catchpole.”

“That’d be nice,” Hermione said, “Muggle schools for our kids to attend.”

“And they’d be close enough to my parents they could use the orchard for flying,” Ron said excitedly. “Think of how good of a quidditch player you’d have been if you’d been able to fly growing up.”

Harry grinned, thinking briefly of the photograph he’d found of himself in Sirius’ bedroom of himself on a broom as a toddler, his father chasing him around. Had his parents lived he only could have imagined his father coaching him throughout his childhood, entering school not only with natural talent but with the skills his dad would have imparted upon him.

“When are we going to tell your parents?” Harry asked.

“About the house?” Ron frowned, “They’ll be thrilled, mum has long been dropping hints about the city being no place for a child.”

Hermione chuckled, “I think he meant the baby.”

She’d closed her book and they were both now looking at Ron. It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed when and how they were going to tell the Weasleys that the rumors about Harry and Hermione’s relationship had not been false and the resulting child was indeed not Ron’s.

“We could just wait until the kid’s older,” Ron joked. “Have it tell them. Mum will melt as soon as she sees it’s big green eyes.”

Harry laughed, feeling as though Mrs. Weasley would indeed be more receptive to his child than she would be to him once she’d learned what they’d done.

“I think we should just get it over with,” Ron said when neither of them responded to his remark. “Set them down and get it all out there. It’s not like they’ll tell anyone, it’s my sister we have to worry about leaking to the press.”

The thought of Ginny finding out somehow had been nagging at Harry. He felt she, of all people, deserved to hear the truth even if she was less than receptive to it.

“I think I should tell Ginny,” He said in a voice much more confident than what he was feeling.

“Really?” Hermione said in surprise.

“I think she has a right to know. She already thought something was going on between us, I think I owe her the truth after all this.” Harry said. “I’ll send her an owl, she’s been having Molly nag me about getting the rest of my stuff out of her place.”

“You want us to go with you?” Ron asked, looking uncomfortable at the thought.

While the idea that he wouldn’t have to face the brunt of her anger alone was enticing, he knew having them there would make it seem as though he was trying to flaunt them.

“Nah,” Harry said, “I think it’d be better for me to go alone.”

 

Ginny took no time and responding to his owl, inviting him over after work the following Tuesday. He found himself more nervous at the thought of facing her than the idea of how she’d react to the news. They’d hardly spoken since the breakup, only stiff casualties the couple of times he and Hermione had braved joining the Weasleys for dinner.

Though his relationship with the Weasleys was gradually improving, he’d yet to feel as comfortable as before among them. Apologies had been given and accepted, the tension from the secret the trio were still holding had yet to be released.

“Tea?” Ginny asked stiffly as he exited the grate.

“Please,” he said, hoping it would calm his nerves.

“Any leads on who Imperiused Ron?” she asked conversationally as he sat down at the kitchen table he’d once called his own. “I didn’t get the chance to talk with him at George’s birthday.”

Harry shook his head. “Robards is still looking into it, but the people from Diagon Alley that day have all been cleared and he went to St. Mungo’s directly after. Unless it happened there, we’ve no way of knowing who he came in contact with after.”

Ginny nodded, turning to the stove and busying herself with preparing tea. There was an uncomfortable silence as she waited for the kettle to boil. Harry thought he ought to ask her about how she’d been, but his mouth was so dry he couldn’t seem to manage the words. After a few tense minutes, she joined him at the table, setting cups in front of either of them.

“I take it you didn’t just come to get the rest of your things,” Ginny prompted when he didn’t speak.

“No, I didn’t,” Harry admitted, unsure now of how to start the conversation.

He’d spent every moment since receiving her owl running this conversation over in his head but now the carefully crafted monologue seemed to be missing from his memory.

“I owe you an apology,” He burst out when he could tell she was beginning to grow annoyed. The last thing he needed was her cross before he even got started. “You were right.”

“About what?” Ginny asked with a small, amused smile.

“About me liking Ron and Hermione more than I loved you,” Harry said.

Ginny blinked at him, the smile fading from her face.

“I didn’t know it then,” he spoke quickly. “I couldn’t understand what you meant, but you were right and I owe you an apology for wasting your time.”

Stunned, Ginny stared at him. “Did you mean to waste my time?”

“No,” Harry answered in surprise. “Of course not, I thought I was in love with you.”

He waited, but she didn’t seem to have anything to say to this.

“You were always so easy to talk to and kind and pretty,” he could feel himself rambling now. “I thought those things meant it would be easy to love you, but I know now that love isn’t just about being fond of someone.”

“I thought it would be easy too,” Ginny had a sad smile on her face. “You said I was right, what about?”

“That I was in love with Ron and Hermione,” Harry said softly.

“Ah. Do they know?” Ginny asked but she didn’t look surprised by this revelation as he might have thought. Harry nodded. “Are you together?”

“Nothing happened while I was still with you, I swear,” Harry started, speaking very quickly.“Hermione and I got together about four months after we separated. We were losing hope on ever finding Ron because no one was listening to us. It was the holidays and we’d run out of options. After our tracking spell failed—”

Harry trailed off, the memory washing over him again. With Ron back, it was impossible to explain how desperate they both had been, how convinced they were that they’d been abandoned completely. 

“Does Ron know?” Ginny asked softly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, unable to meet her eyes now. “Like I said, I’m in love with the both of them.”

“Oh Harry,” Ginny answered, her voice full of pity.

“No,” Harry said, “No, it’s good. They—er—they reciprocate.”

“Oh,” she said in realization. “Are you with them?”

Harry finally looked up at her and could see her thinking quickly. “Yes, we’re together.”

“Ah,” Ginny gasped. She paused for a moment, studying him. “And the baby?”

“Mine,” Harry confirmed, a strange rush of emotions overcoming him. “We—er—we’re buying a house together. I know the press has already started with the rumors about the baby and it’s only going to get worse after they find out about the house. I wanted you to know first, to hear the truth from me.”

They sat in tense silence as he waited for Ginny to process this. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were locked onto him.

“I know how strange this all is,” Harry said when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“It’s more that it’s my brother than anything,” Ginny muttered. “Polygamy is a lot more common in the wizarding world, there’s not a lot of it anymore, but you know, to keep our bloodlines alive and all. Besides, I’m sure you know all this. I’m sure Hermione rushed off to figure out to do a bonding charm as soon as you all admitted how you felt to each other.”

“Bonding charm?” Harry questioned.

“You know, it’s how multiple people get married,” Ginny explained.

“Bloody hell, I’m not looking to marry them or anything.” Harry sputtered, unsure why the news that marriage was possible was so alarming to him. “We’re just figuring all this out.”

“Harry,” Ginny said in a tone that what she was saying should have been obvious to him. “Ron and Hermione have been your best friends since you were eleven, you’re buying a house together, you’re having a baby together. It sounds rather serious to me.”

Harry let this wash over him for a moment and then focused on Ginny. “You’re not cross?”

“I’m not thrilled,” Ginny admitted with a shrug. “But I already had a hunch and this means I get to hear you say that I was right for the rest of our lives.”

Hearing _the rest of our lives_ out of Ginny’s mouth was comforting. He’d missed her in these months they’d been apart. Even though he knew now they were not romantically compatible, he’d never liked the idea that they wouldn’t be friends any longer.

“Have you told mum and dad?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Harry said with a grimace. “We’ve been trying to work out how exactly to tell them but I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“I appreciate that,” Ginny said gratefully. “As for mum and dad, you should just let Ron handle it. They were so embarrassed when he first came back and chewed our heads off I think they’d accept just about anything to stay in his good graces.”

Personally, Harry thought asking them to accept him as not only Ron’s new partner but as the father of the baby might be outside their realm of accepted behavior but he didn’t say anything.

“I only ever heard Ron’s side of what happened the day he reappeared,” Harry said, “And his sounded a little too flattering.”

“Well, he showed up right as we were sitting down for lunch, looking like hell and mum burst into tears at the sight of him. She went to hug him but he fought her off and laid into all of us. About how Hermione was his wife and you were his best friend and how could we all have abandoned you both. He demanded to see the letters he’d written and then laughed at it. Said his handwriting had never been so neat and there was no way he’d ever say _with my deepest regrets I must inform you_ , and if only they’d let Hermione look at it then she would have proved it was a fake,” Ginny grinned. “Then he laid into Bill and George telling them that if something happened to them that he would take care of their wives and he thought same courtesy would have been extended for Hermione.”

“You know, it was only our second time meeting Audrey and at the sight of her Ron said, “ _I don’t really know who you are exactly but if something ever happened to Percy I would make sure you were taken care of too.”_

Mum tried to hug him again and he told her he wouldn’t be speaking to any of us until we offered you both formal apologies and then he stole lunch from the middle of the table and left before any of us could even get a word in.”

Harry smiled, remembering Ron arriving home with half of the pot of soup splashed down his front, looking bewildered that he’d even managed it. The soup had been the first good home cooked meal Harry had in ages and he’d been grateful when the next morning he awoke to a rather lengthy letter from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apologizing for what they’d done and thanking him for never giving up on Ron.

“Ron’s version was a little more embellished,” Harry said.

“I can only imagine,” Ginny said. She crinkled her nose. “He really loves you.”

“Yeah,” said Harry fondly, feeling his cheeks growing hot. “The tosser.”

Suddenly he felt more comfortable with Ginny than he’d been in ages.

“You don’t have to clear your stuff out you know,” Ginny said to him. “I can keep it until you’re settled in your new place.”

“I’d appreciate that Ginny,” Harry said. “You should come round for dinner, we can tell you about the new place, I know Ron would like to see you.”

“I don’t know if Hermione would,” Ginny answered after a moment of consideration. “I wasn’t exactly kind to her with the papers.”

“No,” Harry agreed, “You weren’t.” Cautiously he added. “Listen, we’re not trying to get all of this out, and I understand if you’re cross but—“

“I won’t say a word,” Ginny promised at once. “I don’t think I could manage having another thing to apologize for.”

Harry grinned at her and they rose together. It felt like their conversation had come to an end. Hesitantly Harry offered his arms, unsure whether she yet was willing to hug him but she obliged at once, squeezing him around the middle as her flowery perfume met his nose.

“Harry,” Ginny said as they parted. “When you lot get settled in, I want to be allowed in on your enchantments.”

“Really?” Harry asked before he could think it through. “Why?”

“Harry I’m going to have a nice or nephew, you owe me access to that baby,” Ginny told him. “How else am I going to become the favorite Aunt?”


	14. it’s not a sacrifice, it’s our family

Life, by and large, had returned to the blissful ease Harry had grown accustomed to before Ron’s disappearance. Only now, rather than dividing his time between appeasing his girlfriend and his best friends, they were one and the same. Harry never worried about returning home, but rather raced out of the office at the end of the day, eager to spend his evenings with his partners, looking forward to the weekends spent picking out furniture for their new home, cooking dinner all together in the cramped kitchen, and lazy Sundays spent listening to the wireless and finishing reports.

Not to mention the added benefit of kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. When he’d been with Ginny, the kissing had become stale and Harry had accepted that it was a detriment of aging, that the activity had simply lost the novel charm it had held in his younger years. Now he wondered how he ever could have forgotten.

Their offer on the Fawcett’s home had been accepted and as the summer drew to a close they packed their belongings and prepared to move out of the cramped flat. In expressing their guilt over how they’d treated Harry and Hermione, the Weasley’s had been overtly helpful and kind. When they announced their move, the trio wasn’t met with nasty comments or side looks but rather eager offers to help move and paint, ways to repent for the betrayal.

“Only one bed?” George asked in a casual voice as he helped Harry set up the frame in the bedroom they’d expanded to make into a master.

“Er-yeah,” Harry winced. No one had been in their living quarters for so long he hadn’t thought to shield the rather obvious nature of their sleeping arrangements.

George didn’t bat an eye but gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t you go breaking my brother’s heart.”

Harry could feel his face growing hot. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

 

“You know that muggles find out the sex of the baby before it’s born,” Hermione commented as she sat cross-legged on the floor of the nursery, sorting through the baby clothes that Fleur had dropped off the day before.

Harry and Ron were just across the room, heads bent together as they tried to figure out how exactly the muggle crib Hermione’s parents had sent was supposed to go together.

“Really?” Ron asked, looking at her in surprise. “And why would they want to know that?”

“So they can plan for clothes, paint the nursery,” Hermione said, gesturing around the room.

“But that’s what color changing spells are for,” Ron argued and Hermione had an amused smile on her face as she shook her head. “What does it matter what the baby is anyway?”

“Tell that to your mum,” Harry quipped.

Ron ignored him and instead muttered, “Muggles, daft the whole lot of them.”

“You know,” Hermione said after a moment, “We haven’t exactly discussed what’s going to happen after the baby’s born.”

Harry could feel the room pause as they all stopped what they were doing to look at one another.

“What do you mean?” he braved, unsure which of the many topics they’d yet to broach she was referring to.

“I mean,” Hermione went on, her voice careful. “I’ve only planned to take the winter off of work for my maternity leave, as we’ve got the Centaur negations slated for the spring. Where’s the baby going to be while we’re all at work?”

In the rush of everything that had happened, Harry hadn’t spent much time thinking about how their lives would change once their child was actually born. He liked his job, more so now that Robards was entrusting him with more responsibility given the loyalty Harry had shown the department after everything that had happened with Ron. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d have to step back from the job he enjoyed. But it seemed just as foreign, not to mention unfair, to think of Hermione not continuing in her flourishing career.

“I’m not saying that any of us should stop working entirely.” Hermione continued when neither Harry or Ron responded. “But we need to discuss how we’re going to divide up childcare responsibilities.”

“I think one of us should stay home,” Ron said.

“Really?” Hermione asked in shock, but there was a certain iciness to her voice. “And who do you propose that should be?”

“Me of course,” Ron said, a challenging look on his face.

“What?” Harry heard himself ask at the same time as Hermione.

“Don’t act so surprised, do you really think I’d be that poor of a parent?” Ron asked.

“No, of course not,” Hermione said quickly and Ron grinned, revealing he’d been teasing them. “Are you sure you’d want to stop working?”

“I like working back when I was actually an Auror, now I just sit at a desk all day and push papers around.” Ron shrugged. “And, seeing as they’ve no idea why or how I threw off the curse, I’m no closer to getting back in the field.”

“But they’re bound to figure something out,” Harry said. “You’re a good Auror, you shouldn’t throw it all away.”

“It’s not a sacrifice, it’s _our_ family,” Ron said firmly and Harry smiled at the sentiment. “I’m not like you, mate, I never thought I’d be an Auror forever. I joined because I felt like we had a job to do, rounding up all the rest of the Death Eaters, but they’re all rotting away in Azkaban now."

“It’s what you’ve always wanted to do,” Harry argued, “even when we were in school.”

“Back in school fighting sounded _fun_ ,” Ron said. “Now that I’ve actually done it, it’s less heroic and more broken bones and nights away from home. Not to mention the bloody paperwork.”

Harry couldn’t argue with him. In school they’d been hunted down, it was a lot more work doing the hunting.

“Besides,” Ron continued, looking over at Hermione. She had tears in her eyes and Ron crawled across the floor to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “You’re the brilliant one, I wouldn’t be doing right by you if I ever got in your way.”

“Oh stop it,” Hermione said with a sniffle and looked up at Harry expectantly.

“Are you positive this is what you want?” Harry asked of him, rising and walking over to them as well.

“It’s not like I’ll be raising it all by myself,” Ron shrugged. “Besides, between the payout from the ministry and the hell I’ve been through this past year, I think I deserve a bit of a break, figure out what I want to do next.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Hermione muttered, kissing him.

“No,” Ron agreed with a teasing grin, his hands fussing with the hem of her shirt. “But I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.”

 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” Harry asked as he watched Ron get to his feet.

“You’re starting to sound like Hermione,” Ron pointed out as he put on his traveling cloak.

“Maybe I’m just looking to get half the day off too,” Harry said, feeling suddenly self-conscious about showing affection at work.

“Tosser,” Ron answered, winking at Harry. “I’ll be fine, just another checkup. Hopefully, they can start taking me off some of these bloody potions so I can go with weeks without having to waste half a day sitting in an exam room. ‘Sides, it’s hardly a day off. Hermione's already dropped enough hints that she’d like the rest of the kitchen unpacked by the same she gets home.”

“Is there enough time for me to drop some hints about you making dinner?” Harry asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. “You two know how to take the fun out of things.” He glanced around and then squeezed Harry’s shoulder affectionally as he passed. “Don’t be late, I’ll see you at home.”

And with a wave, Ron was gone. Harry settled back in his chair, gazing at his mostly cleared desk. His temporary partner’s partner had returned to the field, having Harry without steady field work. Robards had promised him another assignment but had been locked in his office all morning dealing with a personnel issue at Azkaban that had nearly allowed a prisoner to escape.

“Anything new?” Harry asked, peaking his head into the Head Auror’s office.

Robards looked up and then shook his head. “I do wish we had enough staff to make another department to handle these matters.”

Harry wandered in, sitting down as he often did when there was no work to be done.

“I’m afraid this will have to put our next assignment on hold,” Robards said wearily, scribbling something in the margin of the file in front of him.

“Our?” Harry ventured and was rewarded with a nod. “Is there anything I can do to help with this then?”

Robards shook his head, “It’s all settled, just trying to move around enough staff to ensure all of the shifts are covered.” He closed the personnel file he’d been looking at and tossed it to the side.

Harry gazed around the room and spotted a rather sizable box labeled Weasley. “Is that all on Ron?”

“Yes,” Robards said dryly, glancing back at the files. “I’ve been going back through the files on Auror Weasley, seeing if there’s anything we’ve missed.”

“And?” Harry asked without much hope.

“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Robards said, and he sounded genuinely sorry about it. “If you’ve nothing else to do, feel free to take a look, see if you find anything I’ve missed.”

Trying not to look too eager Harry summoned the box and stood.

“I do wish I’d something more,” Robards said, “I don’t like not knowing what happened to Weasley. Until we do, there’s nothing to stop it from happening again.

Harry felt a chill pass over him as he enchanted the box to float in front of him. “Do you think Ron’s still in danger?”

“We all are Auror Potter,” Robards said gravely. “As a great Auror was always fond of saying, _constant vigilance.”_

 

The file was much more expansive than Harry had thought on initial glance. It started all the way when they were back in school, the first folder about Ron’s role in the night that Peter Pettigrew had escaped, though the narrative was framed from the Ministry’s perspective of Sirius breaking into the grounds and then escaping. There were folders on their break in to the Department of Mysteries, the first battle at Hogwarts and then an expansive section on Ron’s relationship with Harry and efforts to track their movements while the Ministry had been under Voldemort’s control.

Drawn to a particularly thick folder, Harry tugged it out and was startled to find it filled with the threats Ron and Hermione had faced when their engagement had been announced.

His memory of the threats hadn’t been nearly as expansive as the evidence before him. Harry began to thumb through it but found the threats already annotated in Robards neat scroll. Many of the threats had been child’s play, dismissed after a single Auror visit where the statement had been retracted under an authoritative presence.

Without any strong suspicions, Harry grew bored and replaced the file, skipping ahead to their more recent cases. He poured through the documents, and it wasn’t until he got to their last assignment that he even noticed that he was focused on the photographs, scanning the faces in the background as if one of them would jump out at him, solve the mystery.

“Harry, are you coming home?”

Harry nearly fell out of his chair in alarm as the otter that echoed Hermione’s voice disappeared in a wisp of smoke. He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten and as he reached for his wand to reply he realized that the usual hum of the office had gone silent, signifying the departure of his co-workers.

“Yeah, see you soon,” Harry answered, his voice sounding loud in the empty office.

Hurriedly he packed up the box and sealed it, unsurprised to find Robards in the same position Harry had left him in.

“Anything?” Robards asked as Harry deposited the box on the floor where he had found it.

“No,” Harry answered.

Robards sighed. “I’d rather hoped that you would find something I’d overlooked.”

“So you’ve really no idea how this has happened?” Harry questioned.

“Unless some new information comes to light,” He looked ashamed to admit it. “Unfortunately I’ve no idea who could have done this.”

Harry wished he could find something comforting to say but found himself at a loss for words. Robards didn’t seem to expect anything more from Harry and returned his quill to the paper.

“I’d better be getting home,” Harry said to close the conversation but Robards was already absorbed in his work and Harry wasn’t positive he’d been heard.

“Potter?” Robards asked just when Harry was at the door. He paused, looking back. “Please remind Auror Weasley that if he intends to take time off when his wife gives birth that I need that request in by the end of next week.”

Harry nodded.

“And yours if you intend to do the same.”

“Sir, I-“ Harry said his face flushed.

“I don’t care what goes on in your personal life, so long as it doesn’t affect your work here.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry answered, feeling pleased, “I’ll make sure the requests are in.”

 

The autumn sun was setting by the time Harry arrived at home. He could hear someone in the kitchen, Hermione he decided as the wireless was playing news rather than Quidditch.

“I’m home,” he called out to her, taking off his shoes by the grate and vanishing the soot he’d brought in with him before she could chastise him about ruining the new rug.

“Mind the soot!” Hermione called out at once as if reading his mind.

“I got it of course,” Harry said as he entered, walking over to greet her at the stove. The kitchen was still in boxes and it was clear Hermione had just arrived at home too. “Did Ron’s appointment run long? I thought he was going to take care of this.”

“No,” Hermione said tensely, glancing around at the half-opened boxes and added in an undertone. “He’s in a mood.”

Worriedly wondering what could have possibly happened to ruin Ron’s good spirits, Harry set to work aside Hermione, washing his hands and taking over the salad. Anxious energy radiated off of her and just as Harry was about to ask what she knew of Ron’s appointment there was a rustling from the other room. From the hallway, Ron emerged and sauntered over to the armchair by the fire.

Face cast in shadow, Harry was unable to make out Ron’s expression and an uneasy feeling fell over him. Acting on the urge to put himself in front of Hermione, Harry abandoned his task and dried his hands on a towel as he entered the sitting room.

“Oi,” Harry called to him, pulling out his wand to light the lamps, “I thought you were making me dinner.”

Ron didn’t react to the change in lighting, staring at Harry with a strange expression.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked when he didn’t respond. Ron’s eyes were tracking him, his posture oddly stiff. “What did the healer have to say?”

“Why?” Ron snapped suddenly, “Hoping they’ll keep me out of duty so you can be reassigned?”

“No,” Harry answered, annoyed that he’d be berated so soon after arriving at home. “I know you were hoping they’d reduce your medications.”

“Well, don’t act so thrilled that they didn’t,” Ron snapped again, his voice raised. “We both know you don’t have any problems in bed.”

Ron’s libido had indeed been affected by the many stabilizers he’d been prescribed. It had been a sore topic, one Harry was careful not to bring up. Harry didn’t like the look in Ron’s eyes, his face set in a nasty scowl.

“Is everything alright?” Hermione called from the kitchen.

At the sound of her voice, Ron’s demeanor instantly shifted. He looked conflicted as he stared at her but the look lapsed back into anger when Harry interrupted his line of sight. Something was wrong and everything in Harry was telling him he needed to act but couldn’t think of how.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, walking towards them.

Harry turned to tell her to go somewhere safe but before the words could leave his mouth there was a rustling behind him and when Harry turned Ron had risen from his chair, walking purposely towards them.

“Hermione, you need to leave,” Harry told her firmly, rushing over to her without taking his eyes off of Ron.

“Don’t talk to her,” Ron growled, now only feet away and he drew his own wand, pointing it at Harry’s heart.

“Hermione, go!” Harry shouted at her and it seemed she finally understood.

“My wand is in the other room,” she whispered urgently, trying to peer around him at Ron. “Ron, please, talk to us.”

But her words had little effect. The anger in his eyes was growing and Harry shoved Hermione behind him, trying to put as much distance between her and Ron as possible.

“Ron, please,” Hermione begged, fighting to get out behind Harry as they were backed into the kitchen, realizing far too late that this would trap them as the kitchen had no second exit.

Harry pressed his wand into her hands but she refused to take it. He was struggling to keep Hermione behind him as she kept trying to step out, pleading with Ron to stop as he continued to advance on them.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, but Ron lazily blocked the spell, bouncing off his shield and hitting the light fixture which shattered upon impact, glass raining down onto the counter.

“Expelliarmus,” Ron retaliated and Harry’s grip on his wand wasn’t enough to prevent it from flying out of his hand.

Ron caught the wand without looking, advancing on them still and there was no more room to move. Hermione pinned to the wall behind Harry, her pregnant belly pressing into his back as she continued to loudly plead with Ron to stop, to calm down to-

The fury in Ron’s eyes peached and there wasn’t a moment’s warning before fire burst from the tip of his wand. Without thinking Harry threw Hermione under him, pinning her to the floor as flames licked the wall where they had just been standing. Harry’s glasses flew from his face but even with his eyes tightly shut he could still see the bright light from the flames, feel in intense heat and with no escape he waited for the flames to travel downward, consume them.

Ron was still screaming, but no longer in anger and the flames grew brighter and brighter and Harry chanced raising his head only to see that the flames had been drawn back to their source, a wicked ball of blue light surrounding Ron.

“No!” Harry yelled, but it was too late.

Ron’s pained screamed reached a crescendo and then all at once, it was over.

Harry’s ears rang and he could feel Hermione whimpering beneath him as Harry scrambled to his feet, watching in horror as the blackened figure, standing where Ron had been collapsed to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter (and an epilogue) remain!
> 
> I'm looking for a beta reader for a new story I'm working on. It's dark and emotional (from me? who would have thought?) and I'm struggling to get the pacing right. If anyone is interested then please reach out to me via email. It's my username at gmail dot com. Thanks!


	15. we were in love

If Harry had thought Hermione had been hysterical when he’d first come back home, it was nothing compared to now. She was an endless flow of tears, wailing on Harry’s shoulder as they sat helplessly in an examination room, waiting for the news. The maternity healer who had inspected her had suggested Hermione be sedated, but she had refused becoming more hysteric at the idea.  


“It’s not good for the baby,” the healer said soothingly, visibly alarmed at the intensity of Hermione’s outburst. “All this stress.”

They’d compromised on a calming drought which took away the manic look in Hermione’s eyes and left her mostly silent but weepy. Her hand wouldn’t leave Harry’s, gripping him painfully every time he shifted in his chair as if she feard him leaving.

Robards had arrived before Harry had even the thought to contact him, demanding both of their stories four times before departing to learn what had come of Ron.

“This isn’t happening,” Hermione muttered beside him, staring down at her healed forearms. They’d been scraped when Harry had thrown her to the ground and thankfully her only injury. “This isn’t happening.”

Harry squeezed her hand and looked at her. ‘We’re alright,” he told her sticking to the facts. “We’re alright, everything’s going to be okay.”

But he didn’t know that. For all, he knew Ron was dead, off in a bed somewhere with a healer waiting for instructions on where to take the body. All of this felt so impossible.

“Potter,” said a voice from the doorway and Harry jumped to his feet as Robards and Bainbridge entered the room, looking grim.

Hermione let out an impossible noise and Harry braced himself for the worst.

“His injuries were far less extensive than we’d initially feared,” Bainbridge said at once, his voice hurried but reassuring. “The damage was only skin deep and not the reason he lost consciousness.”

Harry released a shaky breath of relief, squeezing Hermione’s hand as she broke into a fresh round of tears.

“What happened?”

Bainbridge and Robards exchanged uneasy looks. The silence seemed to stretch on and when Robards finally opened his mouth it wasn’t a relief.

“We don’t know if he was ever really free.”

Harry let as if all the hair had been knocked out of him and he stared blankly at the healer. “What?”

“When Mr. Weasley had a marked change in behavior, we believed that he’d been released from the curse but given what we saw today,” Healer Bainbridge trailed off, glancing at Hermione and then back at Harry. “We may have been incorrect in our assumption.

“But why today?” Harry heard himself asking. “Why now? We-“

We bought a house together, we’re having a baby together.  _We were in love._

Beside him, Hermione let out another one of those impossible wails and Harry put his arm around her. She hid her face against his chest and he could feel her trembling.

“We won’t be certain until he wakes.” The healer tried to be reassuring, clearly uncomfortable at Hermione’s distress. “But given the evidence of today, you should be prepared for the worst. Being Imperiused for so long can have some terrible consequences. Depends on whether they ever allowed him to become lucid.”

“So it’ll never be over,” Harry said, his voice a forced calm. “We’ll never really know if he’s free?”

Again the uncomfortable look between the two wizards standing by the door.

“Given the act he performed today, it’s highly unlikely that he’ll still be under the influence,” Robards said carefully.

“But you said-“

“I know what I said,” Robards cut him off and he looked more worn than Harry had ever seen him. “But you know him better than anyone and you didn’t suspect it either.”

Had he been so distracted in hiding his relationship with Hermione that he’d failed to see the warning signs? Had he been so enamored that his best friend, the person he’d loved the most, the one he would miss the most, returning his affections that he’d ignored that it wasn’t his best mate at all?

“So he won’t remember any of it?” Harry asked. “Nothing from the moment he was cursed?”

The silence made Harry’s throat ache.

“What happened today?” Hermione asked, her voice flat and unassuming.

“He redirected the spell to double back on him.” Bainbridge was saying now. “He passed out from the effort it took to fight off the instructions, not from his injuries. If he hadn’t then it would have been deadly.”

“Can we see him?” Harry asked.

Again the healer looked worriedly at Hermione. “He won’t be awake for several hours, not until the potions have-“

“Let me see him,” Harry demanded.

Bainbridge looked at Robards who nodded his approval and then to Hermione, “Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here Mrs. Weasley.”

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione listened, nodding though she gripped Harry’s hand as he moved to follow the healer out the door. He looked back at her and found her eyes wet again. He felt suddenly guilty about leaving her alone but she released her grip and nodded him towards the door.

“I’ll wait here until you return,” Robards assured Harry as he passed and Harry nodded his thanks.

  


The smell hit him before he even entered the ward, the same horrid smell that had nearly made him ill at the house. Anxiously he pushed past his guide, hurrying over to the only occupied bed in the room. Ron lay motionless, a poorly constructed mummy. White bandaging covered every inch of his skin, leaving only his mouth and right eye exposed.

“No touching,” Bainbridge said hastily as Harry reached his hand to lay on Ron’s. “The bandages need to remain sterile.”

Harry withdrew his hand, watching the slow rise and fall of Ron’s chest.

“You understand why I didn’t want his wife to see him like this?” the healer asked hesitantly, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

“Is he going to make it?” Harry asked numbly, fearing the answer.

“Yes,” Bainbridge assured him. “He’s under sedation now to encourage healing, it would be rather painful otherwise. In a few hours, we’ll do another treatment, but he should be awake by morning. We’ll know more then.”

  


  


Ginny arrived within the hour, her long hair dripping wet and looked terrified. “I didn’t know whether or not to call mum and dad, or-“

“He’s stable,” Harry assured her, “It wasn’t as bad as we thought, just healing his skin.”

“Bloody hell,” Ginny whispered, giving Hermione a hasty hug and sinking down into the chair at her bedside. “How could this have happened? Again?”

“He might not have ever been out from under the spell’s influence,” Harry explained in a flat voice, not letting the implication get to him.

Ginny’s eyes snapped to his and they were full of pity. “Oh, Harry.”

“He’s going to live,” Harry said firmly, “That’s what matters.”

  


 

No matter how hard she tried to fight off the effects of the potion, Hermione eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

“Promise me you’ll wake me if anything happens,” she whimpered to him, unable to keep her eyes open.

“I promise,” Harry assured her, brushing her hair out of her face and giving her a forced smile.

It was one of the longest nights of Harry’s life. The seconds seemed to crawl by and as the night wore on and the hospital floor grew silent save for healers making their rounds, checking in on Hermione every hour and running a series of spells that Harry soon memorized.

  


  


“Mr. Potter?”

In the doorway stood a healer Harry had not seen before. He looked uneasy, glancing over his shoulder before entering and spoke in a low voice. “Mr. Weasley is awake and asking for you.”

Harry was alert at once, getting to his feet. “Bainbridge said he was going to sleep until morning."

“He woke up,” the healer explained with a small shrug. “I was going to put him back under but he insisted he was alright and demanded to see you.”

Harry glanced back at Ginny who gave an encouraging smile. “Go, make sure he’s alright.”

Harry gave her a grateful smile and then turned back to the healer, expecting him to lead the way.

“I’ll just check over Mrs. Weasley while I’m here then?” he asked, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Uncertainly Harry watched a the healer drew his wand, beginning the series of charms Harry had watched a half dozen times that night.

“Go,” Ginny insisted, adjusting in her chair. “Make sure he’s alright.”

Harry looked again at the healer, now on the third charm, and walked out the door.

The ward was eerily silent as Harry hurried down it, every footstep echoing around only adding to the uneasiness he felt. Harry was surprised when the lights weren’t on as he approached the ward where he’d observed Ron once before only to find it dark and silent. Worriedly Harry pushed open the door and was alarmed to find Ron in the same position he’d last left him in, the bandages still wound tightly over his face.

“Excuse me!” called a voice in an overloud whisper. “Sir, you’re not supposed to be- oh, Mr. Potter.”

Harry turned as the orderly rushed over. “The healer said he was awake.”

“Awake?” the orderly asked, her brow knit in confusion. “No, he’s not scheduled to wake up until the morning.”

Dread washed over Harry and he wasted no time in being polite. “Contact the Aurors!” he shouted over his shoulder, pulling his wand and raced out the door “He’s here!”

He didn’t wait to see if she understood, bursting through the door and sprinted down the corridor, pushing past a confused looking witch and ignoring the portraits who shouted at him to slow down.

The door to the room was shut and warded and Harry blasted it apart with his wand, sending shards flying into the room. The wizard spun around in surprise but Harry didn’t give him the opportunity to retaliate.

“Expelliarmus!”

The wizard’s wand flew out of his hand and he raised his hands in surrender just before crumbling to the ground under the force of Harry’s stunner.

Hermione hadn’t moved from the position Harry had last seen her, still curled towards the seat Harry had abandoned. Shrapnel from the blasted door coated her and Harry felt a pang when he saw blood dripping down her forehead from a fresh cut. He rushed to her side, trying to rouse her.

“Rennervate!” he tried but she didn’t stir.

“Ginny?” Harry called, looking over to find she had slumped out of her chair and onto the floor.

“Rennervate!” he pointed his wand in her direction and a moment later he heard her moaning.

“What’s going-“ came a witches voice but she stopped in the entrance of the room, assessing the situation. “I’m going to get security.”

“And contact the Aurors,” Harry instructed.

The witch nodded and Harry could hear her fleeing away down the hallway. When he looked back another pair of wide-eyed witches had gathered in the doorway. After a moment one braved entering, walking calmly over the rubble and moving towards Hermione’s still form. Harry gripped her wrist as she pulled her wand and she looked up at him in alarm.

There was no time to verify who she was and Hermione had yet to react. 

“It’s okay,” the witch said soothingly. “I’m just going to check her over.”

The look in her eyes was calm, pitying and Harry released her.

“Is she alright?” Harry asked, his voice trembling as he trained his wand on the stunned healer.

“Petrified,” Ginny supplied. 

“And the baby?” Harry asked.

“Rennervate,” the healer murmured and Harry heard Hermione stir.“Fine, Mr. Potter,” the healer said in her calm voice after a moment, “Just fine.”

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see a crowd gathering and then to his relief, Robards began pushing through.

“Potter?” he asked, training his own wand on the unconscious wizard in the room.

“He told me Ron had woken up, was asking for me,” Harry explained, wondering how he could have been so foolish as to fall into the trap. “He stayed behind, said he was going to check over Hermione.”

“He petrified me,” Ginny explained, looking woozy but determined as she was helped to her feet. “And then Hermione, said he was going to,” she dropped her voice and sounded as if she were going to be sick, “Said he was going to cut the baby out of her.”

There was a collective gasp in the room and Harry tightened his grip on his wand and thick ropes burst from his wand’s tip, binding the still unconscious wizard. Robards turned around to the crowd and addressed the security wizard. “I’ll be needing a private room.”

The security wizard nodded, and with a flick of his wand, Robards caused the bound wizard to float up in the air and in front of him.

Harry clutched at Hermione for a moment, looking her over. She blinked up at him but seemed to understand his question at once. “I’m fine.” She murmured, squeezing his hand with surprising strength.

Ginny drew her wand and took Harry’s place. “I won’t let anything else happen.”

Harry surveyed her for a moment and then nodded. “Robards, wait.”

The Head Auror paused and looked back at Harry but didn’t argue as Harry stepped over the wreckage and followed him down the hall.

  


Robards deposited the wizard not too gently into a chair and secured him to it with a sticking charm. Harry shut the door behind them, warding it and cast Muffliato for good measure. Robards nodded in approval producing a small vial from the inside of his robes, filled with a colorless liquid. Recognizing it as Virtiserum at once, Harry watched as Robards poured the liquid down the man’s throat and stepped back to revive him.

“Are you certain you want to be here Auror Potter?” Robards asked without looking at him.

“Yes,” Harry answered, gripping his own wand and wordlessly revived him. 

The wizard came to with a confused expression. He struggled against the bindings for a moment before finally looking up at the two wands trained on his face. His anxious expression cleared and the one that replaced it was filled with hate.

“Who are you?” Robards asked in the same authoritative voice that Harry was so familiar with. “What is your name?”

The man’s mouth opened and Harry watched as he tried to fight the potion coursing through his veins. “Vance Viridian.”

Harry chanced a glance at Robards and his expression made it clear that the name was foreign to him.

“Are you employed at St. Mungo’s?” Robards continued, undeterred by the new information.

“Yes.”

“What is your position?”

The wizard tried again to fight off the potion but was compelled to tell the truth. “As a caretaker.”

“Were you posing as a healer tonight?” Robards asked.

“Yes?”

“Did you attempt to attack Hermione Weasley?”

“Yes,” he sneered.

“And what were you attempting to do?”

“Cut the bastard from her.”

Even having witnessed it, the brutal confession made Harry sick to his stomach. “Why?”

The wizard’s glazed over eyes shifted to Harry and he wore an expression of loathing. “Because it’s an abomination, no mudblood should be carrying a pureblood’s child."

Harry could feel himself trembling in anger.

“Did you imperiuse Auror Weasley?” Robards went on, his voice as steady as ever.

“Yes?”

“And is that curse still active?”

The man tried again to fight the potion and failed. “No, he broke through it, again.”

Harry felt a temporary wave of relief. “Why, why did you do this?”

The wizard’s eyes shifted over to Harry and he managed a burning look. “To punish the cowards who took so many lives without a second thought.”

“What do you mean?” Harry demanded.

“We didn’t ask for war, but because of you, Potter, there was on anyway. You’ve no respect for the wizarding culture you claimed you were saving. No respect for the traditions that ensured magical society endured.”

“You didn’t care how many bloodlines were sacrificed because of your war, your senseless violence. Ancient families, centuries-old died because of your carelessness. You’d rather see that mudbloods and halfbreeds like yourself inherit the wizarding world.”

“Why Ron?” Harry asked. “Why not me?”

“He was the first of you to show up,” Vance scowled. “I had plans for all of you in time.”

“Then why’d you let Ron go?”

“He was getting stronger and I knew it was only a matter of time before he fought me off. I’d heard rumors that you and the mudblood were getting closer and I thought for sure that once the blood traitor found out he’d end things with her. Blood traitor or not, Weasley has been a respected name for centuries. One of the few Sacred 28 that your war didn’t decimate.”

“Then what?” Harry asked. “What did you think he’d do once he left her?”

“In time he’d find himself a respectable woman to marry, have children with. So long as her blood was pure then he could be a part in rebuilding what you stole from us.”

“And what about us?” Harry asked.

“The damage had already been done,” Vance said. “Your reputation was ruined just as the mudblood's was. It was only a matter of time before I got to you too. Finishing her off tonight would have ruined you forever. No one, not even you Harry Potter would have been forgiven for killing the beloved mudblood.

“And with you two out of the way and Weasley under my control we could focus on re-establishing the credibility you stole from us during your war, establish the pureblood’s rightful place as leaders in the ministry and whose childrenare more brilliant than any half breed or muggle and then we, the purebloods who founded the magical world, could inherit again the world that was rightfully ours.”

“What about tonight?” Gawain asked.

“He was supposed to attack the mudblood and frame Potter. With all of the talk of the affair, I knew it wouldn’t be hard to make it seem that Potter had gotten jealous and attacked her when she refused to run away with him.” He said, “But the stupid blood traitor couldn’t even follow instructions.”

Before he could even realize he was pulling back his wand in anger Robards reached out, putting a calming hand on Harry’s am.

“Is there anything more you need to know, Auror?” he asked of Harry.

It took Harry a long moment to gain control of himself, his blood pulsing through him. But he managed to lower his wand and shake his head.

“Then please go and ensure Auror Weasley’s safety,” Robards commanded him. Harry hesitated for a moment and Robards’ voice was almost kind. “I’ve got it from here.”

  


The sun was just rising through a window at the end of the corridor, drenching the hallway in warm light. Harry paused for a moment, feeling the rays of warmth as the emotions that he’d been holding back finally washed over him.

He was faced with the decision of seeking out Ron or Hermione and his need to see that both of them were alright was overwhelming. The knowledge that the person who’d been attacking them was finally in custody was little relief when he had yet to know the status of his best friends.

  


“Harry!” Ron called anxiously the moment he spotted him in the doorway. “What happened? What’s going on? No one will tell me anything and-“

“Everything's alright,” Harry assured him.

Ron’s face was still swollen but both of his eyes were open now, the skin pink and raw. He pushed away the healer that had been inspecting bandages on his face. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s safe,” Harry assured him Ron’s face finally showed relief.

“I’ll give you a moment then,” the healer said, capping the paste she’d been applying and stepping away.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, collapsing in the chair at Ron’s bedside, exhausted.

“Like shit, how long have I been out?” Ron asked.

There was no good answer to this question, not until Harry knew. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Ron paused, thinking hard. “Hermione,” he whispered finally, fearfully. “Does she know that I was cursed? I think I said some awful things to her, really awful, Harry. Does she know the truth?”

“What kind of things?”

Ron’s face had drained of all color. “I don’t—Harry, she knows the truth right? She knows I’d never leave her?”

Harry could feel his heart sinking. Stiffly he nodded. “She knows.”

Relief flooded Ron’s face. “Oh Merlin, I can’t lose her Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry said noncommittally. His throat suddenly felt very tight. These past few months had been an illusion designed to hurt them all. Once Ron discovered the truth there was no way he would accept Harry in their lives, not like he had been. He felt he had a responsibility to tell Ron now before he heard from someone else. “You’ve been under the curse for months now.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered. “And Hermione—“

“She’s fine,” Harry said again.

“What about the baby?” Ron asked desperately.

“What?”

“Did something happen-?” Ron asked, his face flushed with worry. He mistook Harry’s stunned expression. “Don’t tell me something happened to the baby, Merlin—“

“No,” Harry said quickly. “No, the baby’s fine.”

“Oh,” Ron sighed in relief. “Bloody hell Harry, the look on your face.”

“You prat,” Harry said, unable to think straight. “I thought you hadn’t remembered anything. The healers weren’t sure—“ he paused. “The healers thought you might have forgotten all of it. Might have forgotten me.”

“Oh,” Ron said in realization. He reached out, tugging on Harry’s jacket. “Not bloody likely. Come’mere.”

Harry obliged, moving in closer to kiss him. It was only when Ron winced that Harry remembered how damaged his skin had been not hours before and pulled far enough away as not to irritate him. 

“What happened?” Ron asked of him several moments later, still huddled together, Ron’s hand tangled with Harry’s hair.

Harry briefly explained what had happened, from the moment he’d gotten home right up through the interrogation. Ron’s nails dug into Harry’s skin when he told Ron about the wizard’s intent. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Harry admitted, guilt washing over him. “When he said you were awake, I should have known.” 

“You couldn’t’ve,” Ron pointed out but Harry knew better. He’d been trained against deception, spent his entire wizarding career determining who was trying to deceive him. 

“Do you remember anything that happened?” Harry asked of him. 

Ron sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “He must’ve got me when I was waiting for Bainbridge in an exam room. He walked in as a caretaker, asked if he could look around for something and the bloody bastard waited until my back was turned. I tried to fight it, I really did but the next thing I know I’m home and rowing with Hermione about something and when I heard your voice this rage came over me.” 

He looked ashamed and Harry wished to stroke his am in an assuring manner but settled for laying his hand ontop of Ron’s bandaged arm. 

“You saved her,” Harry assured him. “You saved both of us.” 

“Harry, I could’ve-“ 

“You didn’t,” Harry said firmly. “You fought it off again and protected us and--and, Merlin I don’t deserve you.” 

“Harry?” 

“I’m sorry I slept with Hermione,” Harry said in a small voice. 

Ron gave him an appraising look. “You don’t think I hold that over you, do you?” 

“You should,” Harry mumbled, looking away. 

Ron sighed but waited until Harry looked up to speak. “Do I wish things had unfolded differently? Sure. But nothing has ever been conventional with us. If it took me being away for you to finally realize how you felt then, well, okay.” 

“Don’t ever leave again,” Harry mumbled. “Life’s no fun without you.” 

When their lips grazed one another Harry let out a trembling sigh and barely registered the door opening as a noise caused them to jump apart.

“What is going on here?” exclaimed a familiar female voice “Arthur!”

Harry felt the color drain from his face as he looked up to find the elder Weasleys standing in the doorway looking about to faint from shock.

“Mum,” Ron gasped in horror. “Mum, don’t blow up but-“

“Don’t blow up!” Molly exclaimed, her face turning red rapidly,“Ronald Billius Weasley, I raised you better than this! How long has this been going on? How could you have done this to Hermione? Is this the-?”

“Done want to me?” Hermione asked, her tone flat.

The pair in the doorway parted and Hermione appeared, looking dazed and paid them little attention as she walked into the room and went to their side.

“Mum caught Harry and me,” Ron explained, taking her hand and reaching up to touch the already fading mark on her forehead.

“Oh,” Hermione said numbly, blinking at them.

“Oh?” Mrs. Weasley asked through clenched teeth.

“She’s been given a calming drought,” Harry explained to them. Ron’s worried expression cleared as he finished examining her and looked back at his parents who were still standing in the doorway.

“Of course Hermione knows,” Ron said impatiently “No one is cheating on each other, we’re all together.”

He waited a moment for his words to sink in and they watched as realization dawned over Ron’s parent’s faces.

“Oh, come off it. You know we bought a house together and that Harry’s been living with us for months in a one-bedroom flat. What did you think was going on?”

Mrs. Weasley looked incapable of words and looked at each of them before turning to her husband for help.

“And the baby?” Arthur asked of them, his expression unreadable.

“Your grandchild is going to be a Potter,” Ron went on cautiously, still staring at his mother.

“A Potter,” Molly repeated, her hand flying over her heart.

“Potter-Weasley actually,” Harry put in.

He could feel every eye in the room snap to him and he gripped the bedrail to steady himself.

“Mum, dad, we’re in love,” Ron explained. “I know this might come as a bit of a shock, and we’ve not been broadcasting it because we’ve been trying to sort it out for ourselves, but-but they’ve been my best friends since I was eleven, and after everything we’ve been through together.”

He gazed at them both fondly and turned back to his parents hesitantly. There was a pregnant pause in which Harry scarcely breathed.

“Are you certain?” Molly managed finally.

“We were first years the first time I put my life on the line for them, I was seventeen when I ran away from home with them, and now I’m twenty-four and I’ve bought a house and having a baby with the people I’ve spent over half my life with. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

 

 

** Chapter 16: A well deserved happy ending **

 

“Really,” Molly fretted as Harry tried for the dozenth time to collect his son so they could go home. “I just don’t understand why the three of you won’t perform a bonding charm at least. James is going to grow up confused.”

“He’s growing up loved, mum,” Ron replied, stepping in and holding out his hands expectantly. “Now, come on, you’ve got him all day tomorrow, while I’m at the shop. You can tell him all about how irresponsible his parents are while we’re not here to correct you.”

Mrs. Weasley gave him a begrudging look but relinquished her hold on the nine-month-old with messy hair after a final kiss to his head. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes as soon as they’d made it home, “Grow up confused. Like us having a legal ceremony is going to affect James at all.”

Ron snorted, leading the way into the nursery with James cuddled in his arms. “He’s already going to be confused with a tosser for a dad.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure I can make up for you.” Harry quipped, unloading the diaper bag from his shoulder.

Ron grinned over his shoulder at Harry’s quick wit. “Prat.”

Harry merely winked at him, handing him James’ fresh onesie and sending the dirty clothes to the hamper with a flick of his wand.

“Boys,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head as she joined them, wiping James’s face with a wet washcloth. She took her turn to kiss James on the forehead and snuggle him in her arms.

“‘sides” Harry continued. “If we give in on this I’m sure she’ll find something else to nag us on.”

“Do you want to Harry?” Hermione asked, rocking their son up and down gently, “Do a bonding charm that is?”

“Do you call that proposal?” Ron scoffed at her.

“Right, because your way was so much better.” Hermione said sarcastically, “At least I’m not drunk at a bar in front of all of our classmates.”

“You gave a pretty enthusiastic yes,” Ron teased, winking at her.

Hermione flushed and rolled her eyes, looking back at Harry. He was smiling fondly at them. “I’m just trying to have a discussion here. It doesn’t matter what Molly thinks is best for our family, all that matters is what makes us happy.”

Harry felt them both looking over at him anxiously. He felt a pressure to say something eloquent though the question had an easy answer.

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said, “It would make things easier for Ron with James.”

Hermione looked disappointed. “That’s not a reason to get married, Harry.”

“I didn’t hear you ask me to marry you.” Harry countered, suddenly wanting to hear the words from her. “I heard you asking if you wanted a bonding charm which isn’t terribly romantic.”

Hermione looked flustered and began to stammer, “Well, you know—I just—“

“You both are hopeless,” Ron said, reaching out suddenly for Harry’s hand and grasping it in his own.

The tone seemed to change in an instant as Ron put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and pulled them both close to him.

“Harry James Potter,” Ron said seriously, locking eyes with Harry. “Would you, not just for practical reasons, or James purposes, but because we love you and we want to share the rest of our lives as a family with you, marry us? The three of us, like it was always meant to be.”

Harry felt his heart fluttering as he heard the words spoken that he’d been longing to hear for his entire life. A family, his family, a family that the world would recognize as his with the two people he cared most about in this world.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “Of course. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ron responded with his familiar grin and Harry leaned in, capturing his lips with his own. Through his dizziness as they separated he heard an impatient noise and turned to Hermione to find tender tears in her eyes as she freed one hand, pulling down his face down to meet hers.

“Brilliant,” Ron said, watching them. “We can do something proper to celebrate, go on a vacation somewhere.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, ducking down to kiss their son’s head, “Take James to see the shore.”

“Or,” said Hermione a wicked look in her eyes. “Molly can watch him since this was her idea anyway, and we can spend a week alone, just the three of us.”

She really was brilliant Harry thought as he watched the excitement grow in Ron’s eyes. They both were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to show support. Re-entering the fan fiction world after ten years was daunting and I was terrified that my stories wouldn't add anything of value to the fandom. To each and every person who has commented, liked, kudosed, subscribed I want you to know how grateful I am. 
> 
> Looking forward I'm going to be focusing on the Consequences of Time series for a spell and refining some one-shots that I have floating around. By the fall I'll be back with some longer stories. Be sure to subscribe for updates!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Roy<3 <3 <3


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